The Memoirs of Louis XV./XVI, entire by Madame du Hausset, and of an unknown English Girl and the

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severity than circumstances absolutely demand. Favour and partialitymay, on the other hand, induce the confessor to make great concessions;and the shortest interval may suffice to save a favourite, especially ifany decent pretext can be found for prolonging her stay at Court." Iagreed with her in all she said, but I told her that I dared not touchthat string. On reflecting on this conversation afterwards, I wasforcibly struck with this fresh proof of the intrigues of the Jesuits,which, indeed, I knew well already. I thought that, in spite of what Ihad replied to Madame du Chiron, I ought to communicate this to Madame dePompadour, for the ease of my conscience; but that I would abstain frommaking any reflection upon it. "Your friend, Madame du Chiron," saidshe, "is, I perceive, affiliated to the Jesuits, and what she says doesnot originate with herself. She is commissioned by some reverend father,and I will know by whom." Spies were, accordingly, set to watch hermovements, and they discovered that one Father de Saci, and, still moreparticularly, one Father Frey, guided this lady's conduct. "What apity," said Madame to me, "that the Abbe Chauvelin cannot know this."He was the most formidable enemy of the reverend fathers. Madame duChiron always looked upon me as a Jansenist, because I would not espousethe interests of the good fathers with as much warmth as she did.

Madame is completely absorbed in the Abbe de Bernis, whom she thinkscapable of anything; she talks of him incessantly. Apropos, of thisAbbe, I must relate an anecdote, which almost makes one believe inconjurors. A year, or fifteen months, before her disgrace, Madame dePompadour, being at Fontainebleau, sat down to write at a desk, overwhich hung a portrait of the King. While she was, shutting the desk,after she had finished writing, the picture fell, and struck herviolently on the head.. The persons who saw the accident were alarmed,and sent for Dr. Quesnay. He asked the circumstances of the case, andordered bleeding and anodynes. Just, as she had been bled, Madame deBrancas entered,, and saw us all in confusion and agitation, and Madamelying on her chaise-longue. She asked what was the matter, and was told.After having expressed her regret, and having consoled her, she said,"I ask it as a favour of Madame, and of the King (who had just come in),that they will instantly send a courier to the Abbe de Bernis, and thatthe Marquise will have the goodness to write a letter, merely requestinghim to inform her what his fortune-tellers told him, and to withholdnothing from the fear of making her uneasy." The thing was, done as shedesired, and she then told us that La Bontemps had predicted, from thedregs in the, coffee-cup, in which she read everything, that the, head ofher best friend was in danger, but that no fatal consequences wouldensue.

The next day, the Abbe wrote word that Madame Bontemps also said to him,"You came into the world almost black," and that this was the fact. Thiscolour, which lasted for some time, was attributed to a picture whichhung at the foot of his, mother's bed, and which she often looked at. Itrepresented a Moor bringing to Cleopatra a basket of flowers, containingthe asp by whose bite she destroyed herself. He said that she also toldhim, "You have a great deal of money about you, but it does not belong toyou;" and that he had actually in his pocket two hundred Louis for theDuc de La Valliere. Lastly, he informed us that she said, looking in thecup, "I see one of your friends--the best--a distinguished lady,threatened with an accident;" that he confessed that, in spite of all hisphilosophy, he turned pale; that she remarked this, looked again into thecup, and continued, "Her head will be slightly in danger, but of this noappearance will remain half an hour afterwards." It was impossible todoubt the facts. They appeared so surprising to the King, that hedesired some inquiry to be made concerning the fortune-teller. Madame,however, protected her from the pursuit of the Police.

A man, who was quite as astonishing as this fortune-teller, often visitedMadame de Pompadour. This was the Comte de St. Germain, who wished tohave it believed that he had lived several centuries.

[St. Germain was an adept--a worthy predecessor of Cagliostro, who expected to live five hundred years. The Count de St. Germain pretended to have already lived two thousand, and, according to him, the account was still running. He went so far as to claim the power of transmitting the gift of long life. One day, calling upon his servant to, bear witness to a fact that went pretty far back, the man replied, "I have no recollection of it, sir; you forget that I have only had the honour of serving you for five hundred years."

St. Germain, like all other charlatans of this sort, assumed a theatrical magnificence, and an air of science calculated to deceive the vulgar. His best instrument of deception was the phantasmagoria; and as, by means of this abuse of the science of optics, he called up shades which were asked for, and almost always recognised, his correspondence with the other world was a thing proved by the concurrent testimony of numerous witnesses.

He played the same game in London, Venice, and Holland, but he constantly regretted Paris, where his miracles were never questioned.

St. Germain passed his latter days at the Court of the Prince of Hesse Cassel, and died at Plewig, in 1784, in the midst of his enthusiastic disciples, and to their infinite astonishment at his sharing the common destiny.]

One day, at her toilet, Madame said to him, in my presence, "What was thepersonal appearance of Francis I.? He was a King I should have liked."--"He was, indeed, very captivating," said St. Germain; and he proceededto describe his face and person as one does that of a man one hasaccurately observed. "It is a pity he was too ardent. I could havegiven him some good advice, which would have saved him from all hismisfortunes; but he would not have followed it; for it seems as if afatality attended Princes, forcing them to shut their ears, those of themind, at least, to the best advice, and especially in the most criticalmoments."--"And the Constable," said Madame, "what do you say of him?"--"I cannot say much good or much harm of him," replied he. "Was the Courtof Francis I. very brilliant?"--"Very brilliant; but those of hisgrandsons infinitely surpassed it. In the time of Mary Stuart andMargaret of Valois it was a land of enchantment--a temple, sacred topleasures of every kind; those of the mind were not neglected. The twoQueens were learned, wrote verses, and spoke with captivating grace andeloquence." Madame said, laughing, "You seem to have seen all this."--"I have an excellent memory," said he, "and have read the history ofFrance with great care. I sometimes amuse myself, not by making, but byletting it be believed that I lived in old times."--"You do not tell meyour age, however, and you give yourself out for very old. The Comtessede Gergy, who was Ambassadress to Venice, I think, fifty years ago, saysshe knew you there exactly what you are now."--"It is true, Madame, thatI have known Madame de Gergy a long time."--"But, according to what shesays, you would be more than a hundred"--"That is not impossible," saidhe, laughing; "but it is, I allow, still more possible that Madame deGergy, for whom I have the greatest respect, may be in her dotage."--"You have given her an elixir, the effect of which is surprising.She declares that for a long time she has felt as if she was only four-and-twenty years of age; why don't you give some to the King?"--"Ah! Madame," said he, with a sort of terror, "I must be mad to think ofgiving the King an unknown drug." I went into my room to write down thisconversation. Some days afterwards, the King, Madame de Pompadour, someLords of the Court, and the Comte de St. Germain, were talking about hissecret for causing the spots in diamonds to disappear. The King ordereda diamond of middling size, which had a spot, to be brought. It wasweighed; and the King said to the Count, "It is valued at two hundred andforty louis; but it would be worth four hundred if it had no spot. Willyou try to put a hundred and sixty louis into my pocket?" He examined itcarefully, and said, "It may be done; and I will bring it you again in amonth." At the time appointed, the Count brought back the diamondwithout a spot, and gave it to the King. It was wrapped in a cloth ofamianthus, which he took off. The King had it weighed, and found it butvery little diminished. The King sent it to his jeweller by M. deGontaut, without telling him anything of what had passed. The jewellergave three hundred and eighty louis for it. The King, however, sent forit back again, and kept it as a curiosity. He could not overcome hissurprise, and said that M. de St. Germain must be worth millions,especially if he had also the secret of making large diamonds out of anumber of small ones. He neither said that he had, nor that he had not;but he positively asserted that he could make pearls grow, and give themthe finest water. The King, paid him great attention, and so did Madamede Pompadour. It was from her I learnt what I have just related.M. Queanay said, talking of the pearls, "They are produced by a diseasein the oyster. It is possible to know the cause of it; but, be that asit may, he is not the less a quack, since he pretends to have the elixirvitae, and to have lived several centuries. Our master is, however,infatuated by him, and sometimes talks of him as if his descent wereillustrious."

I have seen him frequently: he appeared to be about fifty; he was neitherfat nor thin; he had an acute, intelligent look, dressed very simply, butin good taste; he wore very fine diamonds in his rings, watch, and snuff-bog. He came, one day, to visit Madame de Pompadour, at a time when theCourt was in full splendour, with knee and shoe-buckles of diamonds sofine and brilliant that Madame said she did not believe the King had anyequal to them. He went into the antechamber to take them off, andbrought them to be examined; they were compared with others in the room,and the Duc de Gontaut, who was present, said they were worth at leasteight thousand louis. He wore, at the same time, a snuff-box ofinestimable value, and ruby sleeve-buttons, which were perfectlydazzling. Nobody could find out by what means this man became so richand so remarkable; but the King would not suffer him to be spoken of withridicule or contempt. He was said to be a bastard son of the King ofPortugal.

I learnt, from M. de Marigny, that the relations of the good littleMarechale (de Mirepoix) had been extremely severe upon her, for what theycalled the baseness of her conduct, with regard to Madame de Pompadour.They said she held the stones of the cherries which Madame ate in hercarriage, in her beautiful little hands, and that she sate in the frontof the carriage, while Madame occupied the whole seat in the inside. Thetruth was, that, in going to Crecy, on an insupportably hot day, theyboth wished to sit alone, that they might be cooler; and as to the matterof the cherries, the villagers having brought them some, they ate them torefresh themselves, while the horses were changed; and the Marechalemptied her pocket-handkerchief, into which they had both thrown thecherry-stones, out of the carriage window. The people who were changingthe horses had given their own version of the affair.

I had, as you know, a very pretty room at Madame's hotel, whither Igenerally went privately. I had, one day, had visits from two or threeParis representatives, who told me news; and Madame, having sent for me,I went to her, and found her with M. de Gontaut. I could not helpinstantly saying to her, "You must be much pleased, Madame, at the nobleaction of the Marquis de ------." Madame replied, drily, "Hold yourtongue, and listen to what I have to say to you." I returned to mylittle room, where I found the Comtesse d'Amblimont, to whom I mentionedMadame's reception of me. "I know what is the matter," said she; "it hasno relation to you. I will explain it to you. The Marquis de -------has told all Paris, that, some days ago, going home at night, alone, andon foot, he heard cries in a street called Ferou, which is dark, and, ingreat part, arched over; that he drew his sword, and went down thestreet, in which he saw, by the light of a lamp, a very handsome woman,to whom some ruffians were offering violence; that he approached, andthat the woman cried out, 'Save me! save me!' that he rushed upon thewretches, two of whom fought him, sword in hand, whilst a third held thewoman, and tried to stop her mouth; that he wounded one in the arm; andthat the ruffians, hearing people pass at the end of the street, andfearing they might come to his assistance, fled; that he went up to thelady, who told him that they were not robbers, but villains, one of whomwas desperately in love with her; and that the lady knew not how toexpress her gratitude; that she had begged him not to follow her, afterhe had conducted her to a fiacre; that she would not tell him her name,but that she insisted on his accepting a little ring, as a token ofremembrance; and that she promised to see him again, and to tell him herwhole history, if he gave her his address; that he complied with thisrequest of the lady, whom he represented as a charming person, and who,in the overflowing of her gratitude, embraced him several times. This isall very fine, so far," said Madame d'Amblimont, "but hear the rest. TheMarquis de exhibited himself everywhere the next day, with a black ribbonbound round his arm, near the wrist, in which part he said he hadreceived a wound. He related his story to everybody, and everybodycommented upon it after his own fashion. He went to dine with theDauphin, who spoke to him of his bravery, and of his fair unknown, andtold him that he had already complimented the Duc de C---- on the affair.I forgot to tell you," continued Madame d'Amblimont, "that, on the verynight of the adventure, he called on Madame d'Estillac, an old gambler,whose house is open till four in the morning; that everybody there wassurprised at the disordered state in which he appeared; that his bagwighad fallen off, one skirt of his coat was cut, and his right handbleeding. That they instantly bound it up, and gave him some Rota wine.Four days ago, the Duc de C---- supped with the King, and sat near M. deSt. Florentin. He talked to him of his relation's adventure, and askedhim if he had made any inquiries concerning the lady. M. de St.Florentin coldly answered, 'No!' and M. de C---- remarked, on asking himsome further questions, that he kept his eyes firmed on his plate,looking embarrassed, and answered in monosyllables. He asked him thereason of this, upon which M. de Florentin told him that it was extremelydistressing to him to see him under such a mistake. 'How can you knowthat, supposing it to be the fact?' said M. de ------, 'Nothing is moreeasy to prove,' replied M. de St. Florentin. 'You may imagine that, assoon as I was informed of the Marquis de ------'s adventure, I set onfoot inquiries, the result of which was, that, on the night when thisaffair was said to have taken place, a party of the watch was set inambuscade in this very street, for the purpose of catching a thief whowas coming out of the gaming house; that this party was there four hours,and heard not the slightest noise.' M. de C was greatly incensed at thisrecital, which M. de St. Florentin ought, indeed, to have communicated tothe King. He has ordered, or will order, his relation to retire to hisprovince.

"After this, you will judge, my dear, whether you were very likely to begraciously received when you went open-mouthed with your compliment tothe Marquise. This adventure," continued she, "reminded the King of onewhich occurred about fifteen years ago. The Comte d'E----, who was whatis called 'enfant d'honneur' to the Dauphin, and about fourteen years ofage, came into the Dauphin's apartments, one evening, with his bag-wigsnatched off, and his ruffles torn, and said that, having walked ratherlate near the piece of water des Suisses, he had been attacked by tworobbers; that he had refused to give them anything, drawn his sword, andput himself in an attitude of defence; that one of the robbers was armedwith a sword, the other with a large stick, from which he had receivedseveral blows, but that he had wounded one in the arm, and that, hearinga noise at that moment, they had fled. But unluckily for the littleCount, it was known that people were on the spot at the precise time hementioned, and had heard nothing. The Count was pardoned, on account ofhis youth. The Dauphin made him confess the truth, and it was lookedupon as a childish freak to set people talking about him."

The King disliked the King of Prussia because he knew that the latter wasin the habit of jesting upon his mistress, and the kind of life he led.It was Frederick's fault, as I have heard it said, that the King was nothis most steadfast ally and friend, as much as sovereigns can be towardseach other; but the jestings of Frederick had stung him, and made himconclude the treaty of Versailles. One day, he entered Madame'sapartment with a paper in his hand, and said, "The King of Prussia iscertainly a great man; he loves men of talent, and, like Louis XIV., hewishes to make Europe ring with his favours towards foreign savans.There is a letter from him, addressed to Milord Marshal,

[George Keith, better known under the name of Milord Marshal, was the eldest son of William Keith, Earl Marshal of Scotland. He was an avowed partisan of the Stuarts, and did not lay down the arms he had taken up in their cause until it became utterly desperate, and drew upon its defenders useless dangers. When they were driven from their country, he renounced it, and took up his residence successively in France, Prussia, Spain, and Italy. The delicious country and climate of Valencia he preferred above any other.

Milord Marshal died in the month of May, 1778. It was he who said to Madame Geoffrin, speaking of his brother, who was field-marshal in the Prussian service, and died on the field of honour, "My brother leaves me the most glorious inheritance" (he had just laid the whole of Bohemia under contribution); "his property does not amount to seventy ducats." A eulogium on Milord Marshal, by D'Alembert, is extant. It is the most cruelly mangled of all his works, by Linguet]

ordering him to acquaint a 'superieur' man of my kingdom (D'Alembert)that he has granted him a pension;" and, looking at the letter, he readthe following words: "You must know that there is in Paris a man of thegreatest merit, whose fortune is not proportionate to his talents andcharacter. I may serve as eyes to the blind goddess, and repair in somemeasure the injustice, and I beg you to offer on that account. I flattermyself that he will accept this pension because of the pleasure I shallfeel in obliging a man who joins beauty of character to the most sublimeintellectual talents." The King here stopped, on seeing MM. de Ayen andde Gontaut enter, and then recommenced reading the letter to them, andadded, "It was given me by the Minister for Foreign Affairs, to whom itwas confided by Milord Marshal, for the purpose of obtaining mypermission for this sublime genius to accept the favour. But," said theKing, "what do you think is the amount?" Some said six, eight, tenthousand livres. "You have not guessed," said the King; "it is twelvehundred livres."--"For sublime talents," said the Duc d'Ayen, "it is notmuch. But the philosophers will make Europe resound with this letter,and the King of Prussia will have the pleasure of making a great noise atlittle expense."

The Chevalier de Courten,--[The Chevalier de Courten was a Swiss, and aman of talent.]--who had been in Prussia, came in, and, hearing thisstory told, said, "I have seen what is much better than that: passingthrough a village in Prussia, I got out at the posthouse, while I waswaiting for horses; and the postmaster, who was a captain in the Prussianservice, showed me several letters in Frederick's handwriting, addressedto his uncle, who was a man of rank, promising him to provide for hisnephews; the provision he made for this, the eldest of these nephews, whowas dreadfully wounded, was the postmastership which he then held." M.de Marigny related this story at Quesnay's, and added, that the man ofgenius above mentioned was D'Alembert, and that the King had permittedhim to accept the pension. He added, that his sister had suggested tothe King that he had better give D'Alembert a pension of twice the value,and forbid him to take the King of Prussia's. This advice he would nottake, because he looked upon D'Alembert as an infidel. M. de Marignytook a copy of the letter, which he lent me.

A certain nobleman, at one time, affected to cast tender glances onMadame Adelaide. She was wholly unconscious of it; but, as there areArguses at Court, the King was, of course, told of it, and, indeed, hethought he had perceived it himself. I know that he came into Madame dePompadour's room one day, in a great passion, and said, "Would youbelieve that there is a man in my Court insolent enough to dare to raisehis eyes to one of my daughters?" Madame had never seen him soexasperated, and this illustrious nobleman was advised to feign anecessity for visiting his estates. He remained there two months.Madame told me, long after, that she thought that there were no torturesto which the King would not have condemned any man who had seduced one ofhis daughters. Madame Adelaide, at the time in question, was a charmingperson, and united infinite grace, and much talent, to a most agreeableface.

A courier brought Madame de Pompadour a letter, on reading which sheburst into tears. It contained the intelligence of the battle ofRosbach, which M. de Soubise sent her, with all the details. I heard hersay to the Marechal de Belle-Isle, wiping her eyes, "M. de Soubise isinconsolable; he does not try to excuse his conduct, he sees nothing butthe disastrous fortune which pursues him."--"M. de Soubise must, however,have many things to urge in his own behalf," said M. de Belle-Isle, "andso I told the King."--"It is very noble in you, Marshal, not to suffer anunfortunate man to be overwhelmed; the public are furious against him,and what has he done to deserve it?"--"There is not a more honourable nora kinder man in the world. I only fulfil my duty in doing justice to thetruth, and to a man for whom I have the most profound esteem. The Kingwill explain to you, Madame, how M. de Soubise was forced to give battleby the Prince of Sage-Hildbourgshausen, whose troops fled first, andcarried along the French troops." Madame would have embraced the oldMarshal if she had dared, she was so delighted with him.

M. de Soubise, having gained a battle, was made Marshal of France: Madamewas enchanted with her friend's success. But, either it was unimportant,or the public were offended at his promotion; nobody talked of it butMadame's friends. This unpopularity was concealed from her, and she saidto Colin, her steward, at her toilet, "Are you not delighted at thevictory M. de Soubise has gained? What does the public say of it? Hehas taken his revenge well." Colin was embarrassed, and knew not what toanswer. As she pressed him further, he replied that he had been ill, andhad seen nobody for a week.

M. de Marigny came to see me one day, very much out of humour. I askedhim the cause. "I have," said he, "just been intreating my sister not tomake M. le Normand-de-Mezi Minister of the Marine. I told her that shewas heaping coals of fire upon her own head. A favourite ought not tomultiply the points of attack upon herself." The Doctor entered. "You,"said the Doctor, "are worth your weight in gold, for the good sense andcapacity you have shewn in your office, and for your moderation, but youwill never be appreciated as you deserve; your advice is excellent; therewill never be a ship taken but Madame will be held responsible for it tothe public, and you are very wise not to think of being in the Ministryyourself."

One day, when I was at Paris, I went to dine with the Doctor, whohappened to be there at the same time; there were, contrary to his usualcustom, a good many people, and, among others, a handsome young Master ofthe Requests, who took a title from some place, the name of which I haveforgotten, but who was a son of M. Turgot, the 'prevot des marchands'.They talked a great deal about administration, which was not very amusingto me; they then fell upon the subject of the love Frenchmen bear totheir Kings. M. Turgot here joined in the conversation, and said, "Thisis not a blind attachment; it is a deeply rooted sentiment, arising froman indistinct recollection of great benefits. The French nation--I maygo farther--Europe, and all mankind, owe to a King of France" (I haveforgotten his name)--[Phillip the Long]-- "whatever liberty they enjoy.He established communes, and conferred on an immense number of men acivil existence. I am aware that it may be said, with justice, that heserved his own interests by granting these franchises; that the citiespaid him taxes, and that his design was to use them as instruments ofweakening the power of great nobles; but what does that prove, but thatthis measure was at once useful, politic, and humane?" From Kings ingeneral the conversation turned upon Louis XV., and M. Turgot remarkedthat his reign would be always celebrated for the advancement of thesciences, the progress of knowledge, and of philosophy. He added thatLouis XV. was deficient in the quality which Louis XIV. possessed toexcess; that is to say, in a good opinion of himself; that he was well-informed; that nobody was more perfectly master of the topography ofFrance; that his opinion in the Council was always the most judicious;and that it was much to be lamented that he had not more confidence inhimself, or that he did not rely upon some Minister who enjoyed theconfidence of the nation. Everybody agreed with him. I begged M.Quesnay to write down what young Turgot had said, and showed it toMadame. She praised this Master of the Requests greatly, and spoke ofhim to the King. "It is a good breed," said he.

One day, I went out to walk, and saw, on my return, a great many peoplegoing and coming, and speaking to each other privately: it was evidentthat something extraordinary had happened. I asked a person of myacquaintance what was the matter. "Alas!" said he, with tears in hiseyes, "some assassins, who had formed the project of murdering the King,have inflicted several wounds on a garde-du-corps, who overheard them ina dark corridor; he is carried to the hospital: and as he has describedthe colour of these men's coats, the Police are in quest of them in alldirections, and some people, dressed in clothes of that colour, arealready arrested." I saw Madame with M. de Gontaut, and I hastened home.She found her door besieged by a multitude of people, and was alarmed:when she got in, she found the Comte de Noailles. "What is all this,Count?" said she. He said he was come expressly to speak to her, andthey retired to her closet together. The conference was not long. I hadremained in the drawing-room, with Madame's equerry, the Chevalier deSolent, Gourbillon, her valet de chambre, and some strangers. A greatmany details were related; but, the wounds being little more thanscratches, and the garde-du-corps having let fall some contradictions, itwas thought that he was an impostor, who had invented all this story tobring himself into favour. Before the night was over, this was proved tobe the fact, and, I believe, from his own confession. The King came,that evening, to see Madame de Pompadour; he spoke of this occurrencewith great sang froid, and said, "The gentleman who wanted to kill me wasa wicked madman; this is a low scoundrel."

When he spoke of Damiens, which was only while his trial lasted, he nevercalled him anything but that gentleman.

I have heard it said that he proposed having him shut up in a dungeon forlife; but that the horrible nature of the crime made the judges insistupon his suffering all the tortures inflicted upon like occasions. Greatnumbers, many of them women, had a barbarous curiosity to witness theexecution; amongst others, Madame de P------, a very beautiful woman,and the wife of a Farmer General. She hired two places at a window fortwelve Louis, and played a game of cards in the room whilst waiting forthe execution to begin. On this being told to the King, he covered hiseyes with his hands and exclaimed, "Fi, la Vilaine!" I have been toldthat she, and others, thought to pay their court in this way, andsignalise their attachment to the King's person.

Two things were related to me by M. Duclos at the time of the attempt onthe King's life.

The first, relative to the Comte de Sponheim, who was the Duc de Deux-Ponts, and next in succession to the Palatinate and Electorate ofBavaria. He was thought to be a great friend to the King, and had madeseveral long sojourns in France. He came frequently to see Madame.M. Duclos told us that the Duc de Deux-Ponts, having learned, at Deux-Ponts, the attempt on the King's life, immediately set out in a carriagefor Versailles: "But remark," said he, "the spirit of 'courtisanerie' ofa Prince, who may be Elector of Bavaria and the Palatinate tomorrow.This was not enough. When he arrived within ten leagues of Paris, he puton an enormous pair of jack-boots, mounted a post-horse, and arrived inthe court of the palace cracking his whip. If this had been realimpatience, and not charlatanism, he would have taken horse twentyleagues from Paris."--"I don't agree with you," said a gentleman whom Idid not know; "impatience sometimes seizes one towards the end of anundertaking, and one employs the readiest means then in one's power.Besides, the Duc de Deux-Ponts might wish, by showing himself thus onhorseback, to serve the King, to whom he is attached, by proving toFrenchmen how greatly he is beloved and honoured in other countries."Duclos resumed: "Well," said he, "do you know the story of M. de C-----?The first day the King saw company, after the attempt of Damiens, M. deC----- pushed so vigorously through the crowd that he was one of thefirst to come into the King's presence, but he had on so shabby a blackcoat that it caught the King's attention, who burst out laughing, andsaid, 'Look at C-----, he has had the skirt of his coat torn off.' M. deC----- looked as if he was only then first conscious of his loss, andsaid, 'Sire, there is such a multitude hurrying to see Your Majesty, thatI was obliged to fight my way through them, and, in the effort, my coathas been torn.'--'Fortunately it was not worth much,' said the Marquis deSouvre, 'and you could not have chosen a worse one to sacrifice on theoccasion.'"

Madame de Pompadour had been very judiciously advised to get her husband,M. le Normand, sent to Constantinople, as Ambassador. This would have alittle diminished the scandal caused by seeing Madame de Pompadour, withthe title of Marquise, at Court, and her husband Farmer General at Paris.But he was so attached to a Paris life, and to his opera habits, that hecould not be prevailed upon to go. Madame employed a certainM. d'Arboulin, with whom she had been acquainted before she was at Court,to negotiate this affair. He applied to a Mademoiselle Rem, who had beenan opera-dancer, and who was M. le Normand's mistress. She made him veryfine promises; but she was like him, and preferred a Paris life. Shewould do nothing in it.

At the time that plays were acted in the little apartments, I obtained alieutenancy for one of my relations, by a singular means, which provesthe value the greatest people set upon the slightest access to the Court.Madame did not like to ask anything of M. d'Argenson, and, being pressedby my family, who could not imagine that, situated as I was, it could bedifficult for me to obtain a command for a good soldier, I determined togo and ask the Comte d'Argenson. I made my request, and presented mymemorial. He received me coldly, and gave me vague answers. I went out,and the Marquis de V-----, who was in his closet, followed me. "You wishto obtain a command," said he; "there is one vacant, which is promised mefor one of my proteges; but if you will do me a favour in return, orobtain one for me, I will give it to you. I want to be a police officer,and you have it in your power to get me a place." I told him I did notunderstand the purport of his jest. "I will tell you," said he;"Tartuffe is going to be acted in the cabinets, and there is the part ofa police officer, which only consists of a few lines. Prevail uponMadame de Pompadour to assign me that part, and the command is yours."I promised nothing, but I related the history to Madame, who said shewould arrange it for me. The thing was done, and I obtained the command,and the Marquis de V----- thanked Madame as if she had made him a Duke.

The King was often annoyed by the Parliaments, and said a very remarkablething concerning them, which M. de Gontaut repeated to Doctor Quesnay inmy presence. "Yesterday," said he, "the King walked up and down the roomwith an anxious air. Madame de Pompadour asked him if he was uneasyabout his health, as he had been, for some time, rather unwell. 'No,'replied he; I but I am greatly annoyed by all these remonstrances.'--'What can come of them,' said she, 'that need seriously disquiet YourMajesty? Are you not master of the Parliaments, as well as of all therest of the kingdom?'--'That is true,' said the King; 'but, if it had notbeen for these counsellors and presidents, I should never have beenstabbed by that gentleman' (he always called Damiens so). 'Ah! Sire,'cried Madame de Pompadour. 'Read the trial,' said he. 'It was thelanguage of those gentlemen he names which turned his head.'--'But,' saidMadame, 'I have often thought that, if the Archbishop--[M. de Beaumont]--could be sent to Rome--'--'Find anybody who will accomplish thatbusiness, and I will give him whatever he pleases.'" Quesnay said theKing was right in all he had uttered. The Archbishop was exiled shortlyafter, and the King was seriously afflicted at being driven to take sucha step. "What a pity," he often said, "that so excellent a man should beso obstinate."--"And so shallow," said somebody, one day. "Hold yourtongue," replied the King, somewhat sternly. The Archbishop was verycharitable, and liberal to excess, but he often granted pensions withoutdiscernment.

[The following is a specimen of the advantages taken of his natural kindness. Madame la Caille, who acted the Duennas at the Opera Comique, was recommended to him as the mother of a family, who deserved his protection, The worthy prelate asked what he could do for her. Monseigneur," said the actress, "two words from your hand to the Duc de Richelieu would induce him to grant me a demi-part." M. de Beaumont, who was very little acquainted with the language of the theatre, thought that a demi-part meant a more liberal portion of the Marshal's alms, and the note was written in the most pressing manner. The Marshal answered, that he thanked the Archbishop for the interest he took in the Theatre Italien, and in Madame la Caille, who was a very useful person at that theatre; that, nevertheless, she had a bad voice; but that the recommendation of the Archbishop was to be preferred to the greatest talents, and that the demi-part was granted."]

He granted one of an hundred louis to a pretty woman, who was very poor,and who assumed an illustrious name, to which she had no right. The fearlest she should be plunged into vice led him to bestow such excessivebounty upon her; and the woman was an admirable dissembler. She went tothe Archbishop's, covered with a great hood, and, when she left him, sheamused herself with a variety of lovers.

Great people have the bad habit of talking very indiscreetly before theirservants. M. de Gontaut once said these words, covertly, as he thought,to the Duc de ------, "That measures had been taken which would,probably, have the effect of determining the Archbishop to go to Rome,with a Cardinal's hat; and that, if he desired it, he was to have acoadjutor."

A very plausible pretext had been found for making this proposition, andfor rendering it flattering to the Archbishop, and agreeable to hissentiments. The affair had been very adroitly begun, and successappeared certain. The King had the air, towards the Archbishop, ofentire unconsciousness of what was going on. The negotiator acted as ifhe were only following the suggestions of his own mind, for the generalgood. He was a friend of the Archbishop, and was very sure of a liberalreward. A valet of the Duc de Gontaut, a very handsome young fellow, hadperfectly caught the sense of what was spoken in a mysterious manner.He was one of the lovers of the lady of the hundred Louis a year, and hadheard her talk of the Archbishop, whose relation she pretended to be. Hethought he should secure her good graces by informing her that greatefforts were being made to induce her patron to reside at Rome, with aview to get him away from Paris. The lady instantly told the Archbishop,as she was afraid of losing her pension if he went. The informationsquared so well with the negotiation then on foot, that the Archbishophad no doubt of its truth. He cooled, by degrees, in his conversationswith the negotiator, whom he regarded as a traitor, and ended by breakingwith him. These details were not known till long afterwards. The loverof the lady having been sent to the Bicetre, some letters were foundamong his papers, which gave a scent of the affair, and he was made toconfess the rest.

In order not to compromise the Duc de Gontaut, the King was told that thevalet had come to a knowledge of the business from a letter which he hadfound in his master's clothes. The King took his revenge by humiliatingthe Archbishop, which he was enabled to do by means of the information hehad obtained concerning the conduct of the lady, his protege. She wasfound guilty of swindling, in concert with her beloved valet; but, beforeher punishment was inflicted, the Lieutenant of Police was ordered to laybefore Monseigneur a full account of the conduct of his relation andpensioner. The Archbishop had nothing to object to in the proofs whichwere submitted to him; he said, with perfect calmness, that she was nothis relation; and, raising his hands to heaven, "She is an unhappywretch," said he, "who has robbed me of the money which was destined forthe poor. But God knows that, in giving her so large a pension, I didnot act lightly. I had, at that time, before my eyes the example of ayoung woman who once asked me to grant her seventy louis a year,promising me that she would always live very virtuously, as she hadhitherto done. I refused her, and she said, on leaving me, 'I must turnto the left, Monseigneur, since the way on the right is closed againstme: The unhappy creature has kept her word but too well. She found meansof establishing a faro-table at her house, which is tolerated; and shejoins to the most profligate conduct in her own person the infamous tradeof a corrupter of youth; her house is the abode of every vice. Think,sir, after that, whether it was not an act of prudence, on my part, togrant the woman in question a pension, suitable to the rank in which Ithought her born, to prevent her abusing the gifts of youth, beauty, andtalents, which she possessed, to her own perdition, and the destructionof others." The Lieutenant of Police told the King that he was touchedwith the candour and the noble simplicity of the prelate. "I neverdoubted his virtues," replied the King, "but I wish he would be quiet."This same Archbishop gave a pension of fifty louis a year to the greatestscoundrel in Paris. He is a poet, who writes abominable verses; thispension is granted on condition that his poems are never printed. Ilearned this fact from M. de Marigny, to whom he recited some of hishorrible verses one evening, when he supped with him, in company withsome people of quality. He chinked the money in his pocket. "This is mygood Archbishop's," said he, laughing; "I keep my word with him: my poemwill not be printed during my life, but I read it. What would the goodprelate say if he knew that I shared my last quarter's allowance with acharming little opera-dancer? 'It is the Archbishop, then, who keepsme,' said she to me; 'Oh, la! how droll that is!'" The King heard this,and was much scandalised at it. "How difficult it is to do good!" saidhe.

The King came into Madame de Pompadour's room, one day, as she wasfinishing dressing. "I have just had a strange adventure," said he:"would you believe that, in going out of my wardroom into my bedroom, Imet a gentleman face to face?"--"My God! Sire," cried Madame, terrified."It was nothing," replied he; "but I confess I was greatly surprised: theman appeared speechless with consternation. 'What do you do here?' saidI, civilly. He threw himself on his knees, saying, 'Pardon me, Sire;and, above all, have me searched: He instantly emptied his pocketshimself; he pulled off his coat in the greatest agitation and terror: atlast he told me that he was cook to -----, and a friend of Beccari, whomhe came to visit; that he had mistaken the staircase, and, finding allthe doors open, he had wandered into the room in which I found him, andwhich he would have instantly left: I rang; Guimard came, and wasastonished enough at finding me tete-a-tete with a man in his shirt. Hebegged Guimard to go with him into another room, and to search his wholeperson. After this, the poor devil returned, and put on his coat.Guimard said to me, 'He is certainly an honest man, and tells the truth;this may, besides, be easily ascertained.' Another of the servants ofthe palace came in, and happened to know him. 'I will answer for thisgood man,' said, he, 'who, moreover, makes the best 'boeuf a carlate' inthe world.' As I saw the man was so agitated that he could not standsteady, I took fifty louis out of my bureau, and said, Here, sir, arefifty Louis, to quiet your alarms: He went out, after throwing himself atmy feet." Madame exclaimed on the impropriety of having the King'sbedroom thus accessible to everybody. He talked with great calmness ofthis strange apparition, but it was evident that he controlled himself,and that he had, in fact, been much frightened, as, indeed, he had reasonto be. Madame highly approved of the gift; and she was the more right inapplauding it, as it was by no means in the King's usual manner. M. deMarigny said, when I told him of this adventure, that he would havewagered a thousand louis against the King's making a present of fifty,if anybody but I had told him of the circumstance. "It is a singularfact," continued he, "that all of the race of Valois have been liberal toexcess; this is not precisely the case with the Bourbons, who are ratherreproached with avarice. Henri IV. was said to be avaricious. He gaveto his mistresses, because he could refuse them nothing; but he playedwith the eagerness of a man whose whole fortune depends on the game.Louis XIV. gave through ostentation. It is most astonishing," added he,"to reflect on what might have happened. The King might actually havebeen assassinated in his chamber, without anybody knowing anything of thematter and without a possibility of discovering the murderer." For morethan a fortnight Madame could not get over this incident.

About that time she had a quarrel with her brother, and both were in theright. Proposals were made to him to marry the daughter of one of thegreatest noblemen of the Court, and the King consented to create him aDuke, and even to make the title hereditary. Madame was right in wishingto aggrandise her brother, but he declared that he valued his libertyabove all things, and that he would not sacrifice it except for a personhe really loved. He was a true Epicurean philosopher, and a man of greatcapacity, according to the report of those who knew him well, and judgedhim impartially. It was entirely at his option to have had the reversionof M. de St. Florentin's place, and the place of Minister of Marine, whenM. de Machault retired; he said to his sister, at the time, "I spare youmany vexations, by depriving you of a slight satisfaction. The peoplewould be unjust to me, however well I might fulfil the duties of myoffice. As to M. de St. Florentin's place, he may live five-and-twentyyears, so that I should not be the better for it. Kings' mistresses arehated enough on their own account; they need not also draw upon,themselves the hatred which is directed against Ministers." M. Quesnayrepeated this conversation to me.

The King had another mistress, who gave Madame de Pompadour someuneasiness. She was a woman of quality, and the wife of one of the mostassiduous courtiers.

A man in immediate attendance on the King's person, and who had the careof his clothes, came to me one day, and told me that, as he was very muchattached to Madame, because she was good and useful to the King, hewished to inform me that, a letter having fallen out of the pocket of acoat which His Majesty had taken off, he had had the curiosity to readit, and found it to be from the Comtesse de ----- who had already yieldedto the King's desires. In this letter, she required the King to give herfifty thousand crowns in money, a regiment for one of her relations, anda bishopric for another, and to dismiss Madame in the space of fifteendays, etc. I acquainted Madame with what this man told me, and she actedwith singular greatness of mind. She said to me, "I ought to inform theKing of this breach of trust of his servant, who may, by the same means,come to the knowledge of, and make a bad use of, important secrets; but Ifeel a repugnance to ruin the man: however, I cannot permit him to remainnear the King's person, and here is what I shall do: Tell him that thereis a place of ten thousand francs a year vacant in one of the provinces;let him solicit the Minister of Finance for it, and it shall be grantedto him; but, if he should ever disclose through what interest he hasobtained it, the King shall be made acquainted with his conduct. By thismeans, I think I shall have done all that my attachment and dutyprescribe. I rid the King of a faithless domestic, without ruining theindividual." I did as Madame ordered me: her delicacy and addressinspired me with admiration. She was not alarmed on account of the lady,seeing what her pretentions were. "She drives too quick," remarkedMadame, "and will certainly be overturned on the road." The lady died.

"See what the Court is; all is corruption there, from the highest to thelowest," said I to Madame, one day, when she was speaking to me of somefacts, that had come to my knowledge. "I could tell you many others,"replied Madame; "but the little chamber, where you often remain, mustfurnish you with a sufficient number." This was a little nook, from,whence I could hear a great part of what passed in Madame's apartment.The Lieutenant of Police sometimes came secretly to this apartment, andwaited there. Three or four persons, of high consideration, also foundtheir way in, in a mysterious, manner, and several devotees, who were, intheir hearts, enemies of Madame de Pompadour. But these men had notpetty objects in view: one: required the government of a province;another, a seat in the Council; a third, a Captaincy of the, Guards; andthis man would have obtained it if the Marechale de Mirepoix had notrequested it for her brother, the Prince de Beauvan. The Chevalier duMuy was not among these apostates; not even the promise of being HighConstable would have tempted him to make up to Madame, still less tobetray his master, the Dauphin. This Prince was, to the last degree,weary of the station he held. Sometimes, when teased to death byambitious people, who pretended to be Catos, or wonderfully devout, hetook part against a Minister against whom he was prepossessed; thenrelapsed into his accustomed state of inactivity and ennui.

The King used to say, "My son is lazy; his temper is Polonese--hasty andchangeable; he has no tastes; he cares nothing for hunting, for women, orfor good living; perhaps he imagines that if he were in my place he wouldbe happy; at first, he would make great changes, create everything anew,as it were. In a short time he would be as tired of the rank of King ashe now is of his own; he is only fit to live 'en philosophe', with cleverpeople about him." The King added, "He loves what is right; he is trulyvirtuous, and does not want under standing." `

M. de St. Germain said, one day, to the King, "To think well of mankind,one must be neither a Confessor, nor a Minister, nor a Lieutenant ofPolice."--"Nor a King," said His Majesty. "Ah! Sire," replied he, "youremember the fog we had a few days ago, when we could not see four stepsbefore us. Kings are commonly surrounded by still thicker fogs,collected around them by men of intriguing character, and faithlessMinisters--all, of every class, unite in endeavouring to make thingsappear to Kings in any, light but the true one." I heard this from themouth of the famous Comte de St. Germain, as I was attending upon Madame,who was ill in bed. The King was there; and the Count, who was a welcomevisitor, had been admitted. There were also present, M. de Gontaut,Madame de Brancas, and the Abbe de Bernis. I remember that the very sameday, after the Count was gone out, the King talked in a style which gaveMadame great pain. Speaking of the King of Prussia, he said, "That is amadman, who will risk all to gain all, and may, perhaps, win the game,though he has neither religion, morals, nor principles. He wants to makea noise in the world, and he will succeed. Julian, the Apostate, did thesame."--"I never saw the King so animated before," observed Madame, whenhe was gone out; "and really the comparison with Julian, the Apostate, isnot amiss, considering the irreligion of the King of Prussia. If he getsout of his perplexities, surrounded as he is by his enemies, he will beone of the greatest men in history."

M. de Bernis remarked, "Madame is correct in her judgment, for she has noreason to pronounce his praises; nor have I, though I agree with what shesays." Madame de Pompadour never enjoyed so much influence as at thetime when M. de Choiseul became one of the Ministry. From the time ofthe Abbe de Bernis she had afforded him her constant support, and he hadbeen employed in foreign affairs, of which he was said to know butlittle. Madame made the Treaty of Sienna, though the first idea of itwas certainly furnished her by the Abbe. I have been informed by severalpersons that the King often talked to Madame upon this subject; for myown part, I never heard any conversation relative to it, except the highpraises bestowed by her on the Empress and the Prince de Kaunitz,whom she had known a good deal of. She said that he had a clear head,the head of a statesman. One day, when she was talking in this strain,some one tried to cast ridicule upon the Prince on account of the stylein which he wore his hair, and the four valets de chambre, who made thehair-powder fly in all directions, while Kaunitz ran about that he mightonly catch the superfine part of it. "Aye," said Madame, "just asAlcibiades cut off his dog's tail in order to give the Athenianssomething to talk about, and to turn their attention from those things hewished to conceal."

Never was the public mind so inflamed against Madame de Pompadour as whennews arrived of the battle of Rosbach. Every day she received anonymousletters, full of the grossest abuse; atrocious verses, threats of poisonand assassination. She continued long a prey to the most acute sorrow,and could get no sleep but from opiates. All this discontent was excitedby her protecting the Prince of Soubise; and the Lieutenant of Police hadgreat difficulty in allaying the ferment of the people. The Kingaffirmed that it was not his fault. M. du Verney was the confidant ofMadame in everything relating to war; a subject which he well understood,though not a military man by, profession. The old Marechal de Noaillescalled him, in derision, the General of the flour, but Marechal Saxe,one day, told Madame that Du Verney knew more of military matters thanthe old Marshal. Du Verney once paid a visit to Madame de Pompadour,and found her in company with the King, the Minister of War, and twoMarshals; he submitted to them the plan of a campaign, which wasgenerally applauded. It was through his influence that M. de Richelieuwas appointed to the command of the army, instead of the Marechald'Estrdes. He came to Quesnay two days after, when I was with him.The Doctor began talking about the art of war, and I remember he said,"Military men make a great mystery of their art; but what is the reasonthat young Princes have always the most brilliant success? Why, becausethey are active and daring. When Sovereigns command their troops inperson what exploits they perform! Clearly, because they are at libertyto run all risks." These observations made a lasting impression on mymind.

The first physician came, one day, to see Madame he was talking of madmenand madness. The King was present, and everything relating to disease ofany kind interested him. The first physician said that he coulddistinguish the symptoms of approaching madness six months beforehand."Are there any persons about the Court likely to become mad?" said theKing.--"I know one who will be imbecile in less than three months,"replied he. The King pressed him to tell the name. He excused himselffor some time. At last he said, "It is M. de Sechelles, the Controller-General."--"You have a spite against him," said Madame, "because he wouldnot grant what you asked"--"That is true," said he, "but though thatmight possibly incline me to tell a disagreeable truth, it would not makeme invent one. He is losing his intellects from debility. He affectsgallantry at his age, and I perceive the connection in his ideas isbecoming feeble and irregular."--The King laughed; but three monthsafterwards he came to Madame, saying, "Sechelles gives evident proofs ofdotage in the Council. We must appoint a successor to him." Madame dePompadour told me of this on the way to Choisy. Some time afterwards,the first physician came to see Madame, and spoke to her in private."You are attached to M. Berryer, Madame," said he, "and I am sorry tohave to warn you that he will be attacked by madness, or by catalepsy,before long. I saw him this morning at chapel, sitting on one of thosevery low little chairs, which are only, meant to kneel upon. His kneestouched his chin. I went to his house after Mass; his eyes were wild,and when his secretary spoke to him, he said, 'Hold your tongue, pen. Apen's business is to write, and not to speak.'" Madame, who liked theKeeper of the Seals, was very much concerned, and begged the firstphysician not to mention what he had perceived. Four days after this,M. Berryer was seized with catalepsy, after having talked incoherently.This is a disease which I did not know even by name, and got it writtendown for me. The patient remains in precisely the same position in whichthe fit seizes him; one leg or arm elevated, the eyes wide open, or justas it may happen. This latter affair was known to all the Court at thedeath of the Keeper of the Seals.

When the Marechal de Belle-Isle's son was killed in battle, Madamepersuaded the King to pay his father a visit. He was rather reluctant,and Madame said to him, with an air half angry, half playful:

The King laughed, and said, "Whose fine verses are those?"--"Voltaire's,"said Madame ------.

"As barbarous as I am, I gave him the place of gentleman in ordinary, anda pension," said the King.

The King went in state to call on the Marshal, followed by all the Court;and it certainly appeared that this solemn visit consoled the Marshal forthe loss of his son, the sole heir to his name.

When the Marshal died, he was carried to his house on a common hand-barrow, covered with a shabby cloth. I met the body. The bearers werelaughing and singing. I thought it was some servant, and asked who itwas. How great was my surprise at learning that these were the remainsof a man abounding in honours and in riches. Such is the Court; the deadare always in fault, and cannot be put out of sight too soon.

The King said, "M. Fouquet is dead, I hear."--"He was no longer Fouquet,"replied the Duc d'Ayen; "Your Majesty had permitted him to change thatname, under which, however, he acquired all his reputation." The Kingshrugged his shoulders. His Majesty had, in fact, granted him letterspatent, permitting him not to sign Fouquet during his Ministry. I heardthis on the occasion in question. M. de Choiseul had the war departmentat his death. He was every day more and more in favour.

Madame treated him with greater distinction than any previous Minister,and his manners towards her were the most agreeable it is possible toconceive, at once respectful and gallant. He never passed a day withoutseeing her. M. de Marigny could not endure M. de Choiseul, but he neverspoke of him, except to his intimate friends. Calling, one day, atQuesnay's, I found him there. They were talking of M. de Choiseul. "Heis a mere 'petit maitre'," said the Doctor, "and, if he were handsomejust fit to be one of Henri the Third's favourites." The Marquis deMirabeau and M. de La Riviere came in. "This kingdom," said Mirabeau,"is in a deplorable state. There is neither national energy, nor theonly substitute for it--money."--"It can only be regenerated," said LaRiviere, "by a conquest, like that of China, or by some great internalconvulsion; but woe to those who live to see that! The French people donot do things by halves." These words made me tremble, and I hastenedout of the room. M. de Marigny did the same, though without appearing atall affected by what had been said. "You heard De La Riviere," said he,--"but don't be alarmed, the conversations that pass at the Doctor's arenever repeated; these are honourable men, though rather chimerical.They know not where to stop. I think, however, they are in the rightway; only, unfortunately, they go too far." I wrote this downimmediately.

The Comte de St. Germain came to see Madame de Pompadour, who was ill,and lay on the sofa. He shewed her a little box, containing topazes,rubies, and emeralds. He appeared to have enough to furnish a treasury.Madame sent for me to see all these beautiful things. I looked at themwith an air of the utmost astonishment, but I made signs to Madame that Ithought them all false. The Count felt for something in his pocketbook,about twice as large as a spectacle-case, and, at length, drew out two orthree little paper packets, which he unfolded, and exhibited a superbruby. He threw on the table, with a contemptuous air, a little cross ofgreen and white stones. I looked at it and said, "That is not to bedespised." I put it on, and admired it greatly. The Count begged me toaccept it. I refused--he urged me to take it. Madame then refused itfor me. At length, he pressed it upon me so warmly that Madame, seeingthat it could not be worth above forty Louis, made me a sign to acceptit. I took the cross, much pleased at the Count's politeness; and, somedays after, Madame presented him with an enamelled box, upon which wasthe portrait of some Grecian sage (whose name I don't recollect), to whomshe compared him. I skewed the cross to a jeweller, who valued it atsixty-five Louis. The Count offered to bring Madame some enamelportraits, by Petitot, to look at, and she told him to bring them afterdinner, while the King was hunting. He shewed his portraits, after whichMadame said to him, "I have heard a great deal of a charming story youtold two days ago, at supper, at M. le Premier's, of an occurrence youwitnessed fifty or sixty years ago." He smiled and said, "It is ratherlong."--"So much the better," said she, with an air of delight. Madamede Gontaut and the ladies came in, and the door was shut; Madame made asign to me to sit down behind the screen. The Count made many apologiesfor the ennui which his story would, perhaps, occasion. He said,"Sometimes one can tell a story pretty well; at other times it is quite adifferent thing."

"At the beginning of this century, the Marquis de St. Gilles wasAmbassador from Spain to the Hague. In his youth he had beenparticularly intimate with the Count of Moncade, a grandee of Spain,and one of the richest nobles of that country. Some months after theMarquis's arrival at the Hague, he received a letter from the Count,entreating him, in the name of their former friendship, to render him thegreatest possible service. 'You know,' said he, 'my dear Marquis, themortification I felt that the name of Moncade was likely to expire withme. At length, it pleased heaven to hear my prayers, and to grant me ason: he gave early promise of dispositions worthy of his birth, but he,some time since, formed an unfortunate and disgraceful attachment to themost celebrated actress of the company of Toledo. I shut my eyes to thisimprudence on the part of a young man whose conduct had, till then,caused me unmingled satisfaction. But, having learnt that he was soblinded by passion as to intend to marry this girl, and that he had evenbound himself by a written promise to that effect, I solicited the Kingto have her placed in confinement. My son, having got information of thesteps I had taken, defeated my intentions by escaping with the object ofhis passion. For more than six months I have vainly endeavoured todiscover where he has concealed himself, but I have now some reason tothink he is at the Hague. The Count earnestly conjured the Marquis tomake the most rigid search, in order to discover his son's retreat, andto endeavour to prevail upon him to return to his home. 'It is an act ofjustice,' continued he, 'to provide for the, girl, if she consents togive up the written promise of marriage which she has received, and Ileave it to your discretion to do what is right for her, as well as todetermine the sum necessary to bring my son to Madrid in a mannersuitable to his condition. I know not,' concluded he, 'whether you are afather; if you are, you will be able to sympathise in my anxieties.'The Count subjoined to this letter an exact description of his son, andthe young woman by whom he was accompanied.

"On the receipt of this letter, the Marquis lost not a moment in sendingto all the inns in Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and the Hague, but in vain--hecould find no trace of them. He began to despair of success, when theidea struck him that a young French page of his, remarkable for hisquickness and intelligence, might be employed with advantage. Hepromised to reward him handsomely if he succeeded in finding the youngwoman, who was the cause of so much anxiety, and gave him the descriptionof her person. The page visited all the public places for many days,without success; at length, one evening, at the play, he saw a young manand woman, in a box, who attracted his attention. When he saw that they,perceived he was looking at them, and withdrew to the back of the box toavoid his observation, he felt confident that they were the objects ofhis search. He did not take his eyes from the bog, and watched everymovement in it. The instant the performance ended, he was in the passageleading from the boxes to the door, and he remarked that the young man,who, doubtless, observed the dress he wore, tried to conceal himself, ashe passed him, by putting his handkerchief before his face. He followedhim, at a distance, to the inn called the Vicomte de Turenne, which hesaw him and the woman enter; and, being now certain of success, he ran toinform the Ambassador. The Marquis de St. Gilles immediately repaired tothe inn, wrapped in a cloak, and followed by his page and two servants.He desired the landlord to show him to the room of a young man and woman,who had lodged for some time in his house. The landlord, for some time,refused to do so, unless the Marquis would give their name. The pagetold him to take notice that he was speaking to the Spanish Ambassador,who had strong reasons for wishing to see the persons in question. Theinnkeeper said they wished not to be known, and that they had absolutelyforbidden him to admit anybody into their apartment who did not ask forthem by name; but that, since the Ambassador desired it, he would showhim their room. He then conducted them up to a dirty, miserable garret.He knocked at the door, and waited for some time; he then knocked againpretty, loudly, upon which the door was half-opened. At the sight of theAmbassador and his suite, the person who opened it immediately closed itagain, exclaiming that they, had made a mistake. The Ambassador pushedhard against him, forced his way, in, made a sign to his people to waitoutside, and remained in the room. He saw before him a very handsomeyoung man, whose appearance perfectly, corresponded with the description,and a young woman, of great beauty, and remarkably fine person, whosecountenance, form, colour of the hair, etc., were also precisely thosedescribed by the Count of Moncade. The young man spoke first. Hecomplained of the violence used in breaking into the apartment of astranger, living in a free country, and under the protection of its laws.The Ambassador stepped forward to embrace him, and said, 'It is uselessto feign, my dear Count; I know you, and I do not come here--to give painto you or to this lady, whose appearance interests me extremely.' Theyoung man replied that he was totally mistaken; that he was not a Count,but the son of a merchant of Cadiz; that the lady was his wife; and, thatthey were travelling for pleasure. The Ambassador, casting his eyesround the miserably furnished room, which contained but one bed, and somepackages of the shabbiest kind, lying in disorder about the room, 'Isthis, my dear child (allow me to address you by a title which iswarranted by my tender regard for your father), is this a fit residencefor the son of the Count of Moncade?' The young man still protestedagainst the use of any such language, as addressed to him. At length,overcome by the entreaties of the Ambassador, he confessed, weeping, thathe was the son of the Count of Moncade, but declared that nothing shouldinduce him to return to his father, if he must abandon a woman he adored.The young woman burst into tears, and threw herself at the feet of theAmbassador, telling him that she would not be the cause of the ruin ofthe young Count; and that generosity, or rather, love, would enable herto disregard her own happiness, and, for his sake, to separate herselffrom him. The Ambassador admired her noble disinterestedness. The youngman, on the contrary, received her declaration with the most desperategrief. He reproached his mistress, and declared that he would neverabandon so estimable a creature, nor suffer the sublime generosity of herheart to be turned against herself. The Ambassador told him that theCount of Moncade was far from wishing to render her miserable, and thathe was commissioned to provide her with a sum sufficient to enable her toreturn into Spain, or to live where she liked. Her noble sentiments, andgenuine tenderness, he said, inspired him with the greatest interest forher, and would induce him to go to the utmost limits of his powers, inthe sum he was to give her; that he, therefore, promised her ten thousandflorins, that is to say, about twelve hundred Louis, which would be givenher the moment she surrendered the promise of marriage she had received,and the Count of Moncade took up his abode in the Ambassador's house,and promised to return to Spain. The young woman seemed perfectlyindifferent to the sum proposed, and wholly absorbed in her lover, and inthe grief of leaving him. She seemed insensible to everything but thecruel sacrifice which her reason, and her love itself, demanded. Atlength, drawing from a little portfolio the promise of marriage, signedby the Count, 'I know his heart too well,' said she, 'to need it.' Thenshe kissed it again and again, with a sort of transport, and delivered itto the Ambassador, who stood by, astonished at the grandeur of soul hewitnessed. He promised her that he would never cease to take theliveliest interest in her fate, and assured the Count of his father'sforgiveness. 'He will receive with open arms,' said he, 'the prodigalson, returning to the bosom of his distressed family; the heart of afather is an exhaustless mine of tenderness. How great will be thefelicity of my friend on the receipt of these tidings, after his longanxiety and affliction; how happy do I esteem myself, at being theinstrument of that felicity?' Such was, in part, the language of theAmbassador, which appeared to produce a strong impression on the youngman. But, fearing lest, during the night, love should regain all hispower, and should triumph over the generous resolution of the lady, theMarquis pressed the young Count to accompany him to his hotel. Thetears, the cries of anguish, which marked this cruel separation, cannotbe described; they deeply touched the heart of the Ambassador, whopromised to watch over the young lady. The Count's little baggage wasnot difficult to remove, and, that very evening, he was installed in thefinest apartment of the Ambassador's house. The Marquis was overjoyed athaving restored to the illustrious house of Moncade the heir of itsgreatness, and of its magnificent domains. On the following morning, assoon as the young Count was up, he found tailors, dealers in cloth, lace,stuffs, etc., out of which he had only to choose. Two valets de chambre,and three laquais, chosen by the Ambassador for their intelligence andgood conduct, were in waiting in his antechamber, and presentedthemselves, to receive his orders. The Ambassador shewed the young Countthe letter he had just written to his father, in which he congratulatedhim on possessing a son whose noble sentiments and striking qualitieswere worthy of his illustrious blood, and announced his speedy return.The young lady was not forgotten; he confessed that to her generosity hewas partly indebted for the submission of her lover, and expressed hisconviction that the Count would not disapprove the gift he had made her,of ten thousand florins. That sum was remitted, on the same day, to thisnoble and interesting girl, who left the Hague without delay. Thepreparations for the Count's journey were made; a splendid wardrobe andan excellent carriage were embarked at Rotterdam, in a ship bound forFrance, on board which a passage was secured for the Count, who was toproceed from that country to Spain. A considerable sum of money, andletters of credit on Paris, were given him at his departure; and theparting between the Ambassador and the young Count was most touching.The Marquis de St. Gilles awaited with impatience the Count's answer, andenjoyed his friend's delight by anticipation. At the expiration of fourmonths, he received this long-expected letter. It would be utterlyimpossible to describe his surprise on reading the following words,'Heaven, my dear Marquis, never granted me the happiness of becoming afather, and, in the midst of abundant wealth and honours, the grief ofhaving no heirs, and seeing an illustrious race end in my person, hasshed the greatest bitterness over my whole existence. I see, withextreme regret, that you have been imposed upon by a young adventurer,who has taken advantage of the knowledge he had, by some means, obtained,of our old friendship. But your Excellency must not be the sufferer.The Count of Moncade is, most assuredly, the person whom you wished toserve; he is bound to repay what your generous friendship hastened toadvance, in order to procure him a happiness which he would have feltmost deeply. I hope, therefore, Marquis, that your Excellency will haveno hesitation in accepting the remittance contained in this letter, ofthree thousand Louis of France, of the disbursal of which you sent me anaccount.'"

The manner in which the Comte de St. Germain spoke, in the characters ofthe young adventurer, his mistress, and the Ambassador, made his audienceweep and laugh by turns. The story is true in every particular, and theadventurer surpasses Gusman d'Alfarache in address, according to thereport of some persons present. Madame de Pompadour thought of having aplay written, founded on this story; and the Count sent it to her inwriting, from which I transcribed it.

M. Duclos came to the Doctor's, and harangued with his usual warmth. Iheard him saying to two or three persons, "People are unjust to greatmen, Ministers and Princes; nothing, for instance, is more common than toundervalue their intellect. I astonished one of these little gentlemenof the corps of the infallibles, by telling him that I could prove thatthere had been more men of ability in the house of Bourbon, for the lasthundred years, than in any other family."--"You prove that?" saidsomebody, sneeringly. "Yes," said Duclos; "and I will tell you how. Thegreat Conde, you will allow, was no fool; and the Duchesse de Longuevilleis cited as one of the wittiest women that ever lived. The Regent was aman who had few equals, in every kind of talent and acquirement. ThePrince de Conti, who was elected King of Poland, was celebrated for hisintelligence, and, in poetry, was the successful rival of La Fare and St.Aulaire. The Duke of Burgundy was learned and enlightened. His Duchess,the daughter of Louis XIV., was remarkably clever, and wrote epigrams andcouplets. The Duc du Maine is generally spoken of only for his weakness,but nobody had a more agreeable wit. His wife was mad, but she had anextensive acquaintance with letters, good taste in poetry, and abrilliant and inexhaustible imagination. Here are instances enough, Ithink," said he; "and, as I am no flatterer, and hate to appear one, Iwill not speak of the living." His hearers were astonished at thisenumeration, and all of them agreed in the truth of what he had said. Headded, "Don't we daily hear of silly D'Argenson,

[Rene LOUIS d'Argenson, who was Minister for Foreign Affairs. He was the author of 'Considerations sur le Gouvernement', and of several other works, from which succeeding political writers have drawn, and still draw ideas, which they give to the world as new. This man, remarkable not only for profound and original thinking, but for clear and forcible expression, was, nevertheless, D'Argenson la bete. It is said, however, that he affected the simplicity, and even silliness of manner, which procured him that appellation. If, as we hope, the unedited memoirs left by Rene d'Argenson will be given to the world, they will be found fully to justify the opinion of Duclos, with regard to this Minister, and the inappropriateness of his nickname.]

because he has a good-natured air, and a bourgeois tone? and yet, Ibelieve, there have not been many Ministers comparable to him inknowledge and in enlightened views." I took a pen, which lay on theDoctor's table, and begged M. Duclos to repeat to me all the names he hadmentioned, and the eulogium he had bestowed on each. "If," said he, "youshow that to the Marquise, tell her how the conversation arose, and thatI did not say it in order that it might come to her ears, and eventually,perhaps, to those of another person. I am an historiographer, and I willrender justice, but I shall, also, often inflict it."--"I will answer forthat," said the Doctor, "and our master will be represented as he reallyis. Louis XIV. liked verses, and patronised poets; that was very well,perhaps, in his time, because one must begin with something; but this agewill be very superior to the last. It must be acknowledged that LouisXV., in sending astronomers to Mexico and Peru, to measure the earth, hasa higher claim to our respect than if he directed an opera. He hasthrown down the barriers which opposed the progress of philosophy, inspite of the clamour of the devotees: the Encyclopaedia will do honour tohis reign." Duclos, during this speech, shook his head. I went away,and tried to write down all I had heard, while it was fresh. I had thepart which related to the Princes of the Bourbon race copied by a valet,who wrote a beautiful hand, and I gave it to Madame de Pompadour. Butshe said to me, "What! is Duclos an acquaintance of yours? Do you wantto play the 'bel esprit', my dear good woman? That will not sit wellupon you." The truth is, that nothing can be further from myinclination. I told her that I met him accidentally at the Doctor's,where he generally spent an hour when he came to Versailles. "The Kingknows him to be a worthy man," said she.

Madame de Pompadour was ill, and the King came to see her several times aday. I generally left the room when he entered, but, having stayed a fewminutes, on one occasion, to give her a glass of chicory water, I heardthe King mention Madame d'Egmont. Madame raised her eyes to heaven, andsaid, "That name always recalls to me a most melancholy and barbarousaffair; but it was not my fault." These words dwelt in my mind, and,particularly, the tone in which they were uttered. As I stayed withMadame till three o'clock in the morning, reading to her a part of thetime, it was easy for me to try to satisfy my curiosity. I seized amoment, when the reading was interrupted, to say, "You looked dreadfullyshocked, Madame, when the King pronounced the name of D'Egmont." Atthese words, she again raised her eyes, and said, "You would feel as Ido, if you knew the affair."--"It must, then, be deeply affecting, for Ido not think that it personally concerns you, Madame."--"No," said she,"it does not; as, however, I am not the only person acquainted with thishistory, and as I know you to be discreet, I will tell it you. The lastComte d'Egmont married a reputed daughter of the Duc de Villars; but theDuchess had never lived with her husband, and the Comtesse d'Egmont is,in fact, a daughter of the Chevalier d'Orleans.--[Legitimate son of theRegent, Grand Prior of France.]--At the death of her husband, young,beautiful, agreeable, and heiress to an immense fortune, she attractedthe suit and homage of all the most distinguished men at Court. Hermother's director, one day, came into her room and requested a privateinterview; he then revealed to her that she was the offspring of anadulterous intercourse, for which her mother had been doing penance forfive-and-twenty years. 'She could not,' said he, 'oppose your formermarriage, although it caused her extreme distress. Heaven did not grantyou children; but, if you marry again, you run the risk, Madame, oftransmitting to another family the immense wealth, which does not, infact, belong to you, and which is the price of crime.'

"The Comtesse d'Egmont heard this recital with horror. At the sameinstant, her mother entered, and, on her knees, besought her daughter toavert her eternal damnation. Madame d'Egmont tried to calm her own andher mother's mind. 'What can I do?' said she, to her. 'Consecrateyourself wholly to God,' replied the director, 'and thus expiate yourmother's crime.' The Countess, in her terror, promised whatever theyasked, and proposed to enter the Carmelites. I was informed of it, andspoke to the King about the barbarous tyranny the Duchesse de Villars andthe director were about to exercise over this unhappy young woman; but weknew not how to prevent it. The King, with the utmost kindness,prevailed on the Queen to offer her the situation of Lady of the Palace,and desired the Duchess's friends to persuade her to endeavour to deterher daughter from becoming a Carmelite. It was all in vain; the wretchedvictim was sacrificed."

Madame took it into her head to consult a fortuneteller, called MadameBontemps, who had told M. de Bernis's fortune, as I have already related,and had surprised him by her predictions. M. de Choiseul, to whom shementioned the matter, said that the woman had also foretold fine thingsthat were to happen to him. "I know it," said she, "and, in return, youpromised her a carriage, but the poor woman goes on foot still." Madametold me this, and asked me how she could disguise herself, so as to seethe woman without being known. I dared not propose any scheme then, forfear it should not succeed; but, two days after, I talked to her surgeonabout the art, which some beggars practise, of counterfeiting sores, andaltering their features. He said that was easy enough. I let the thingdrop, and, after an interval of some minutes, I said, "If one couldchange one's features, one might have great diversion at the opera,or at balls. What alterations would it be necessary to make in me, now,to render it impossible to recognise me?"--"In the first place," said he,"you must alter the colour of your hair, then you must have a false nose,and put a spot on some part of your face, or a wart, or a few hairs."I laughed, and said, "Help me to contrive this for the next ball; I havenot been to one for twenty years; but I am dying to puzzle somebody, andto tell him things which no one but I can tell him. I shall come home,and go to bed, in a quarter of an hour."--"I must take the measure ofyour nose," said he; "or do you take it with wax, and I will have a nosemade: you can get a flaxen or brown wig." I repeated to Madame what thesurgeon had told me: she was delighted at it. I took the measure of hernose, and of my own, and carried them to the surgeon, who, in two days,gave me the two noses, and a wart, which Madame stuck under her left eye,and some paint for the eyebrows. The noses were most delicately made, ofa bladder, I think, and these, with the ether disguises, rendered itimpossible to recognize the face, and yet did not produce any shockingappearance. All this being accomplished, nothing remained but to givenotice to the fortuneteller; we waited for a little excursion to Paris,which Madame was to take, to look at her house. I then got a person,with whom I had no connection, to speak to a waiting-woman of theDuchesse de Ruffec, to obtain an interview with the woman. She made somedifficulty, on account of the Police; but we promised secrecy, andappointed the place of meeting. Nothing could be more contrary to Madamede Pompadour's character, which was one of extreme timidity, than toengage in such an adventure. But her curiosity was raised to the highestpitch, and, moreover, everything was so well arranged that there was notthe slightest risk. Madame had let M. de Gontaut, and her valet dechambre, into the secret. The latter had hired two rooms for his niece,who was then ill, at Versailles, near Madame's hotel. We went out in theevening, followed by the valet de chambre, who was a safe man, and by theDuke, all on foot. We had not, at farthest, above two hundred steps togo. We were shown into two small rooms, in which were fires. The twomen remained in one, and we in the other. Madame had thrown herself on asofa. She had on a night-cap, which concealed half her face, in anunstudied manner. I was near the fire, leaning on a table, on which weretwo candles. There were lying on the chairs, near us, some clothes, ofsmall value. The fortune-teller rang--a little servant-girl let her in,and then went to wait in the room where the gentlemen were. Coffee-cups,and a coffee-pot, were set; and I had taken care to place, upon a littlebuffet, some cakes, and a bottle of Malaga wine, having heard that MadameBontemps assisted her inspiration with that liquor. Her face, indeed,sufficiently proclaimed it. "Is that lady ill?" said she, seeing Madamede Pompadour stretched languidly on the sofa. I told her that she wouldsoon be better, but that she had kept her room for a week. She heatedthe coffee, and prepared the two cups, which she carefully wiped,observing that nothing impure must enter into this operation. I affectedto be very anxious for a glass of wine, in order to give our oracle apretext for assuaging her thirst, which she did, without much entreaty.When she had drunk two or three small glasses (for I had taken care notto have large ones), she poured the coffee into one of the two largecups. "This is yours," said she; "and this is your friends's; let themstand a little." She then observed our hands and our faces; after whichshe drew a looking-glass from her pocket, into which she told us to look,while she looked at the reflections of our faces. She next took a glassof wine, and immediately threw herself into a fit of enthusiasm, whileshe inspected my cup, and considered all the lines formed by the dregs ofthe coffee she had poured out. She began by saying, "That is well--prosperity--but there is a black mark--distresses. A man becomes acomforter. Here, in this corner, are friends, who support you. Ah! whois he that persecutes them? But justice triumphs--after rain, sunshine--a long journey successful. There, do you see these little bags? That ismoney which has been paid--to you, of course, I mean. That is well. Doyou see that arm?"--"Yes."--"That is an arm supporting something: a womanveiled; I see her; it is you. All this is clear to me. I hear, as itwere, a voice speaking to me. You are no longer attacked. I see it,because the clouds in that direction are passed off (pointing to aclearer spot). But, stay--I see small lines which branch out from themain spot. These are sons, daughters, nephews--that is pretty well."She appeared overpowered with the effort she was making. At length, sheadded, "That is all. You have had good luck first--misfortune afterward.You have had a friend, who has exerted himself with success to extricateyou from it. You have had lawsuits--at length fortune has beenreconciled to you, and will change no more." She drank another glass ofwine. "Your health, Madame," said she to the Marquise, and went throughthe same ceremonies with the cup. At length, she broke out, "Neitherfair nor foul. I see there, in the distance, a serene sky; and then allthese things that appear to ascend all these things are applauses. Hereis a grave man, who stretches out his arms. Do you see?--lookattentively."--"That is true," said Madame de Pompadour, with surprise(there was, indeed, some appearance of the kind). "He points tosomething square that is an open coffer. Fine weather. But, look!there are clouds of azure and gold, which surround you. Do you see thatship on the high sea? How favourable the wind is! You are on board; youland in a beautiful country, of which you become the Queen. Ah! what doI see? Look there--look at that hideous, crooked, lame man, who ispursuing you--but he is going on a fool's errand. I see a very greatman, who supports you in his arms. Here, look! he is a kind of giant.There is a great deal of gold and silver--a few clouds here and there.But you have nothing to fear. The vessel will be sometimes tossed about,but it will not be lost. Dixi." Madame said, "When shall I die, and ofwhat disease?"--"I never speak of that," said she; "see here, rather butfate will not permit it. I will shew you how fate confounds everything"--shewing her several confused lumps of the coffee-dregs. "Well, nevermind as to the time, then, only tell me the kind of death." The fortune-teller looked in the cup, and said, "You will have time to prepareyourself." I gave her only two Louis, to avoid doing anythingremarkable. She left us, after begging us to keep her secret, and werejoined the Duc de Gontaut, to whom we related everything that hadpassed. He laughed heartily, and said, "Her coffee-dregs are like theclouds--you may see what you please in them."

There was one thing in my horoscope which struck me, that was thecomforter; because one of my uncles had taken great care of me, and hadrendered me the most essential services. It is also true that Iafterwards had an important lawsuit; and, lastly, there was the moneywhich had come into my hands through Madame de Pompadour's patronage andbounty. As for Madame, her husband was represented accurately enough bythe man with the coffer; then the country of which she became Queenseemed to relate to her present situation at Court; but the mostremarkable thing was the crooked and lame man, in whom Madame thought sherecognized the Duc de V-----, who was very much deformed. Madame wasdelighted with her adventure and her horoscope, which she thoughtcorresponded very remarkably with the truth. Two days after, she sentfor M. de St. Florentin, and begged him not to molest the fortuneteller.He laughed, and replied that he knew why she interceded for this woman.Madame asked him why he laughed. He related every circumstance of herexpedition with astonishing exactness;--[M. de St. Florentin wasMinister for Paris, to whom the Lieutenant of Police was accountable.]--but he knew nothing of what had been said, or, at least, so he pretended.He promised Madame that, provided Bontemps did nothing which called fornotice, she should not be obstructed in the exercise of her profession,especially if she followed it in secret. "I know her," added he, "and I,like other people, have had the curiosity to consult her. She is thewife of a soldier in the guards. She is a clever woman in her way, butshe drinks. Four or five years ago, she got such hold on the mind ofMadame de Ruffec, that she made her believe she could procure her anelixir of beauty, which would restore her to what she was at twenty-five.The Duchess pays high for the drugs of which this elixir is compounded;and sometimes they are bad: sometimes, the sun, to which they wereexposed, was not powerful enough; sometimes, the influence of a certainconstellation was wanting. Sometimes, she has the courage to assure theDuchess that she really is grown handsomer, and actually succeeds inmaking her believe it." But the history of this woman's daughter isstill more curious. She was exquisitely beautiful, and the Duchessbrought her up in her own house. Bontemps predicted to the girl, in theDuchess's presence, that she would marry a man of two thousand Louis ayear. This was not very likely to happen to the daughter of a soldier inthe guards. It did happen, nevertheless. The little Bontemps marriedthe President Beaudouin, who was mad. But, the tragical part of thestory is, that her mother had also foretold that she would die inchildbirth of her first child, and that she did actually die in child-birth, at the age of eighteen, doubtless under a strong impression of hermother's prophecy, to which the improbable event of her marriage hadgiven such extraordinary weight. Madame told the King of the adventureher curiosity had led her into, at which he laughed, and said he wishedthe Police had arrested her. He added a very sensible remark. "In orderto judge," said he, "of the truth or falsehood of such predictions, oneought to collect fifty of them. It would be found that they are almostalways made up of the same phrases, which are sometimes inapplicable, andsome times hit the mark. But the first are rarely-mentioned, while theothers are always insisted on."

I have heard, and, indeed, it is certainly true, that M. de Bridge livedon terms of intimacy with Madame, when she was Madame d'Aioles. He usedto ride on horseback with her, and, as he is so handsome a man, that hehas retained the name of the handsome man, it was natural enough that heshould be thought the lover of a very handsome woman. I have heardsomething more than this. I was told that the King said to M. de Bridge,"Confess, now, that you were her lover. She has acknowledged it to me,and I exact from you this proof of sincerity." M. de. Bridge replied,that Madame de Pompadour was at liberty to say what she pleased for herown amusement, or for any other reason; but that he, for his part, couldnot assert a falsehood; that he had been, her friend; that she was acharming companion, and had great talents; that he delighted in hersociety; but that his intercourse with her had never gone beyond thebounds of friendship. He added, that her husband was present in alltheir parties, that he watched her with a jealous eye, and that he wouldnot have suffered him to be so much with her if he had conceived theleast suspicion of the kind. The King persisted, and told him he waswrong to endeavour to conceal a fact which was unquestionable. It wasrumoured, also, that the Abbe de Bernis had been a favoured lover ofhers. The said Abbe was rather a coxcomb; he had a handsome face, andwrote poetry. Madame de Pompadour was the theme of his gallant verses.He sometimes received the compliments of his friends upon his successwith a smile which left some room for conjecture, although he denied thething in words. It was, for some time, reported at Court that she was inlove with the Prince de Beauvau: he is a man distinguished for hisgallantries, his air of rank and fashion, and his high play; he isbrother to the little Marechale: for all these reasons, Madame is verycivil to him, but there is nothing marked in her behaviour. She knows,besides, that he is in love with a very agreeable woman.

Now that I am on the subject of lovers, I cannot avoid speaking of M. deChoiseul. Madame likes him better than any of those I have justmentioned, but he is not her lover. A lady, whom I know perfectly well,but whom I do not chose to denounce to Madame, invented a story aboutthem, which was utterly false. She said, as I have good reason tobelieve, that one day, hearing the King coming, I ran to Madame's closetdoor; that I coughed in a particular manner; and that the King having,happily, stopped a moment to talk to some ladies, there was time toadjust matters, so that Madame came out of the closet with me and M. deChoiseul, as if we had been all three sitting together. It is very truethat I went in to carry something to Madame, without knowing that theKing was come, and that she came out of the closet with M. de Choiseul,who had a paper in his hand, and that I followed her a few minutes after.The King asked M. de Choiseul what that paper was which he had in hishand. He replied that it contained the remonstrance from the Parliament.

Three or four ladies witnessed what I now relate, and as, with theexception of one, they were all excellent women, and greatly attached toMadame, my suspicions could fall on none but the one in question, whom Iwill not name, because her brother has always treated me with greatkindness. Madame de Pompadour had a lively imagination and greatsensibility, but nothing could exceed the coldness of her temperament.It would, besides, have been extremely difficult for her, surrounded asshe was, to keep up an intercourse of that kind with any man. It is truethat this difficulty would have been diminished in the case of an all-powerful Minister, who had constant pretexts for seeing her in private.But there was a much more decisive fact--M. de Choiseul had a charmingmistress--the Princess de R------, and Madame knew it, and often spoke ofher. He had, besides, some remains of liking for the Princess de Kinski,who followed him from Vienna. It is true that he soon after discoveredhow ridiculous she was. All these circumstances combined were, surely,sufficient to deter Madame from engaging in a love affair with the Duke;but his talents and agreeable qualities captivated her. He was nothandsome, but he had manners peculiar to himself, an agreeable vivacity,a delightful gaiety; this was the general opinion of his character. Hewas much attached to Madame, and though this might, at first, be inspiredby a consciousness of the importance of her friendship to his interest,yet, after he had acquired sufficient political strength to stand alone,he was not the less devoted to her, nor less assiduous in his attentions.He knew her friendship for me, and he one day said to me, with greatfeeling, "I am afraid, my dear Madame du Hausset, that she will sink intoa state of complete dejection, and die of melancholy. Try to diverther." What a fate for the favourite of the greatest monarch inexistence! thought I.

One day, Madame de Pompadour had retired to her closet with M. Berryer.Madame d'Amblimont stayed with Madame de Gontaut, who called me to talkabout my son. A moment after, M. de Gontaut came in and said,"D'Amblimont, who shall have the Swiss guards?"--"Stop a moment," saidshe; "let me call my council----, M. de Choiseul."--"That is not so verybad a thought," said M. de Gontaut, "but I assure you, you are the firstperson who has suggested it." He immediately left us, and Madamed'Amblimont said, "I'll lay a wager he is going to communicate my idea toM. de Choiseul." He returned very shortly, and, M. Berrier having leftthe room, he said to Madame de Pompadour, "A singular thought has enteredd'Amblimont's head."--"What absurdity now?" said Madame. "Not so greatan absurdity neither," said he. "She says the Swiss guards ought to begiven to M. de Choiseul, and, really, if the King has not positivelypromised M. de Soubise, I don't see what he can do better."--"The Kinghas promised nothing," said Madame, "and the hopes I gave him were of thevaguest kind. I only told him it was possible. But though I have agreat regard for M. de Soubise, I do not think his merits comparable tothose of M. de Choiseul." When the King came in, Madame, doubtless, toldhim of this suggestion. A quarter of an hour afterwards, I went into theroom to speak to her, and I heard the King say, "You will see that,because the Duc du Maine, and his children, had that place, he will thinkhe ought to have it, on account of his rank as Prince (Soubise); but theMarechal de Bassompierre was not a Prince; and, by the bye, the Duc deChoiseul is his grandnephew; do you know that?"--"Your Majesty is betteracquainted with the history of France than anybody," replied Madame. Twodays after this, Madame de said to me, "I have two great delights; M. deSoubise will not have the Swiss guards, and Madame de Marsan will beready to burst with rage at it; this is the first: and M. de Choiseulwill have them; this is the greatest."

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[The whole of this passage is in a different handwriting.]

There was a universal talk of a young lady with whom the King was as muchin love as it was possible for him to be. Her name was Romans. She wassaid to be a charming girl. Madame de Pompadour knew of the King'svisits, and her confidantes brought her most alarming reports of theaffair. The Marechale de Mirepoix, who had the best head in Madame'scouncil, was the only one who encouraged her. "I do not tell you," saidshe, "that he loves you better than her; and if she could be transportedhither by the stroke of a fairy's wand; if she could entertain him thisevening at supper; if she were familiar with all his tastes, there would,perhaps, be sufficient reason for you to tremble for your power. ButPrinces are, above all, pre-eminently the slaves of habit. The King'sattachment to you is like that he bears to your apartment, yourfurniture. You have formed yourself to his manners and habits; you knowhow to listen and reply to his stories; he is under no constraint withyou; he has no fear of boring you. How do you think he could haveresolution to uproot all this in a day, to form a new establishment, andto make a public exhibition of himself by so striking a change in hisarrangements?" The young lady became pregnant; the reports current amongthe people, and even those at Court, alarmed Madame dreadfully. It wassaid that the King meant to legitimate the child, and to give the mothera title. "All that," said Madame de Mirepoix, "is in the style of LouisXIV.--such dignified proceedings are very unlike those of our master."Mademoiselle Romans lost all her influence over the King by herindiscreet boasting. She was even treated with harshness and violence,which were in no degree instigated by Madame. Her house was searched,and her papers seized; but the most important, those which substantiatedthe fact of the King's paternity, had been withdrawn. At length she gavebirth to a son, who was christened under the name of Bourbon, son ofCharles de Bourbon, Captain of Horse. The mother thought the eyes of allFrance were fixed upon her, and beheld in her son a future Duc du Maine.She suckled him herself, and she used to carry him in a sort of basket tothe Bois de Boulogne. Both mother and child were covered with the finestlaces. She sat down upon the grass in a solitary spot, which, however,was soon well known, and there gave suck to her royal babe. Madame hadgreat curiosity to see her, and took me, one day, to the manufactory atSevres, without telling me what she projected. After she had bought somecups, she said, "I want to go and walk in the Bois de Boulogne," and gaveorders to the coachman to stop at a certain spot where she wished toalight. She had got the most accurate directions, and when she drew nearthe young lady's haunt she gave me her arm, drew her bonnet over hereyes, and held her pocket-handkerchief before the lower part of her face.We walked, for some minutes, in a path, from whence we could see the ladysuckling her child. Her jet black hair was turned up, and confined by adiamond comb. She looked earnestly at us. Madame bowed to her, andwhispered to me, pushing me by the elbow, "Speak to her." I steppedforward, and exclaimed, "What a lovely child!"--"Yes, Madame," repliedshe, "I must confess that he is, though I am his mother." Madame, whohad hold of my arm, trembled, and I was not very firm. MademoiselleRomans said to me, "Do you live in this neighbourhood?"--"Yes, Madame,"replied I, "I live at Auteuil with this lady, who is just now sufferingfrom a most dreadful toothache."--"I pity her sincerely, for I know thattormenting pain well." I looked all around, for fear any one should comeup who might recognise us. I took courage to ask her whether the child'sfather was a handsome man. "Very handsome, and, if I told you his name,you would agree with me."--"I have the honour of knowing him, then,Madame?"--"Most probably you do." Madame, fearing, as I did, somerencontre, said a few words in a low tone, apologizing for havingintruded upon her, and we took our leave. We looked behind us,repeatedly, to see if we were followed, and got into the carriage withoutbeing perceived. "It must be confessed that both mother and child arebeautiful creatures," said Madame--"not to mention the father; the infanthas his eyes. If the King had come up while we were there, do you thinkhe would have recognised us?"--"I don't doubt that he would, Madame, andthen what an agitation I should have been in, and what a scene it wouldhave been for the bystanders! and, above all, what a surprise to her!"In the evening, Madame made the King a present of the cups she hadbought, but she did not mention her walk, for fear Mademoiselle Romansshould tell him that two ladies, who knew him, had met her there such aday. Madame de Mirepoix said to Madame, "Be assured, the King cares verylittle about children; he has enough of them, and he will not be troubledwith the mother or the son. See what sort of notice he takes of theComte de I-----, who is strikingly like him. He never speaks of him, andI am convinced that he will never do anything for him. Again and again Itell you, we do not live under Louis XIV." Madame de Mirepoix had beenAmbassadress to London, and had often heard the English make this remark.

Some alterations had been made in Madame de Pompadour's rooms, and I hadno longer, as heretofore, the niche in which I had been permitted to sit,to hear Caffarelli, and, in later times, Mademoiselle Fel and Jeliotte.I, therefore, went more frequently to my lodgings in town, where Iusually received my friends: more particularly when Madame visited herlittle hermitage, whither M. de Gontaut commonly accompanied her. Madamedu Chiron, the wife of the Head Clerk in the War-Office, came to see me."I feel," said she, "greatly embarrassed, in speaking to you about anaffair, which will, perhaps, embarrass you also. This is the state ofthe case. A very poor woman, to whom I have sometimes given a littleassistance, pretends to be a relation of the Marquise de Pompadour. Hereis her petition." I read it, and said that the woman had better writedirectly to Madame, and that I was sure, if what she asserted was true,her application would be successful. Madame du Chiron followed myadvice. The woman wrote she was in the lowest depth of poverty, and Ilearnt that Madame sent her six Louis until she could gain more accurateinformation as to the truth of her story. Colin, who was commissioned totake the money, made inquiries of M. de Malvoiain, a relation of Madame,and a very respectable officer. The fact was found to be as she hadstated it. Madame then sent her a hundred louis, and promised her apension of sixty louis a year. All this was done with great expedition,and Madame had a visit of thanks from her poor relation, as soon as shehad procured decent clothes to come in. That day the King happened tocome in at an unusual hour, and saw this person going out. He asked whoit was. "It is a very poor relation of mine," replied Madame. "Shecame, then, to beg for some assistance?"--"No," said she. "What did shecome for, then?"--"To thank me for a little service I have rendered her,"said she, blushing from the fear of seeming to boast of her liberality."Well," said the King; "since she is your relation, allow me to have thepleasure of serving her too. I will give her fifty louis a year out ofmy private purse, and, you know, she may send for the first year'sallowance to-morrow." Madame burst into tears, and kissed the King'shand several times. She told me this three days afterwards, when I wasnursing her in a slight attack of fever. I could not refrain fromweeping myself at this instance of the King's kindness. The next day,I called on Madame du Chiron to tell her of the good fortune of herprotege; I forgot to say that, after Madame had related the affair to me,I told her what part I had taken in it. She approved my conduct, andallowed me to inform my friend of the King's goodness. This action,which showed no less delicate politeness towards her than sensibility tothe sufferings of the poor woman, made a deeper impression on Madame'sheart than a pension of two thousand a year given to herself.

Madame had terrible palpitations of the heart. Her heart actually seemedto leap. She consulted several physicians. I recollect that one of themmade her walk up and down the room, lift a weight, and move quickly. Onher expressing some surprise, he said, "I do this to ascertain whetherthe organ is diseased; in that case motion quickens the pulsation; ifthat effect is not produced, the complaint proceeds from the nerves."I repeated this to my oracle, Quesnay. He knew very little of thisphysician, but he said his treatment was that of a clever man. His namewas Renard; he was scarcely known beyond the Marais. Madame oftenappeared suffocated, and sighed continually. One day, under pretence ofpresenting a petition to M. de Choiseul, as he was going out, I said, ina low voice, that I wished to see him a few minutes on an affair ofimportance to my mistress. He told me to come as soon as I pleased, andthat I should be admitted. I told him that Madame was extremelydepressed; that she gave way to distressing thoughts, which she would notcommunicate; that she, one day, said to me, "The fortune-teller told me Ishould have time to prepare myself; I believe it, for I shall be worn todeath by melancholy." M. de Choiseul appeared much affected; he praisedmy zeal, and said that he had already perceived some indications of whatI told him; that he would not mention my name, but would try to draw fromher an explanation. I don't know what he said to her; but, from thattime, she was much more calm. One day, but long afterwards, Madame saidto M. de Gontaut, "I am generally thought to have great influence, but ifit were not for M. de Choiseul, I should not be able to obtain a Cross ofSt. Louis."

The King and Madame de Pompadour had a very high opinion of Madame deChoiseul. Madame said, "She always says the right thing in the rightplace." Madame de Grammont was not so agreeable to them; and I thinkthat this was to be attributed, in part, to the sound of her voice, andto her blunt manner of speaking; for she was said to be a woman of greatsense, and devotedly attached to the King and Madame de Pompadour. Somepeople pretended that she tried to captivate the King, and to supplantMadame: nothing could be more false, or more ridiculously improbable.Madame saw a great deal of these two ladies, who were extremely attentiveto her. She one day remarked to the Duc d'Ayen,--[Afterwards Marechal deNoaines.] that M. de Choiseul was very fond of his sisters. "I know it,Madame," said he, "and many sisters are the better for that."--"What doyou mean?" said she. "Why," said he, "as the Duc de Choiseul loves hissister, it is thought fashionable to do the same; and I know silly girls,whose brothers formerly cared nothing about them, who are now mosttenderly beloved. No sooner does their little finger ache, than theirbrothers are running about to fetch physicians from all corners of Paris.They flatter themselves that somebody will say, in M. de Choiseul'sdrawing-room, "How passionately M. de ------ loves his sister; he wouldcertainly die if he had the misfortune to lose her." Madame related thisto her brother, in my presence, adding, that she could not give it in theDuke's comic manner. M. de Marigny said, "I have had the start of themall, without making so much noise; and my dear little sister knows that Iloved her tenderly before Madame de Grammont left her convent. The Ducd'Ayen, however, is not very wrong; he has made the most of it in hislively manner, but it is partly true."--"I forgot," replied Madame, "thatthe Duke said, 'I want extremely to be in the fashion, but which sistershall I take up? Madame de Caumont is a devil incarnate, Madame deVillars drinks, Madame d'Armagnac is a bore, Madame de la Marck is halfmad.'"--"These are fine family portraits, Duke," said Madame. The Duc deGontaut laughed, during the whole of this conversation, immoderately.Madame repeated it, one day, when she kept her bed. M. de G----- alsobegan to talk of his sister, Madame du Roure. I think, at least, that isthe name he mentioned. He was very gay, and had the art of creatinggaiety. Somebody said, he is an excellent piece of furniture for afavourite. He makes her laugh, and asks for nothing either for himselfor for others; he cannot excite jealousy, and he meddles in nothing.He was called the White Eunuch. Madame's illness increased so rapidlythat we were alarmed about her; but bleeding in the foot cured her as ifby a miracle. The King watched her with the greatest solicitude; and Idon't know whether his attentions did not contribute as much to the cureas the bleeding. M. de Choiseul remarked, some days after, that sheappeared in better spirits. I told him that I thought this improvementmight be attributed to the same cause.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Air of science calculated to deceive the vulgarBad habit of talking very indiscreetly before othersClouds--you may see what you please in themDared to say to me, so he writesDead always in fault, and cannot be put out of sight too soonFrench people do not do things by halvesFresh proof of the intrigues of the JesuitsHow difficult it is to do goodI dared not touch that stringInfinite astonishment at his sharing the common destinyMadame made the Treaty of SiennaPension is granted on condition that his poems are never printedPleasure of making a great noise at little expenseSending astronomers to Mexico and Peru, to measure the earthShe always says the right thing in the right placeShe drives quick and will certainly be overturned on the road

MEMOIRS OF LOUIS XV. AND XVI.

Being Secret Memoirs of Madame du Hausset, Lady's Maid to Madamede Pompadour, and of an unknown English Girl and the Princess Lamballe

BOOK 3.

SECRET COURT MEMOIRS OF LOUIS XVI. AND THE ROYAL FAMILY OF FRANCE

INTRODUCTION.

I should consider it great presumption to intrude upon the publicanything respecting myself, were there any other way of establishing theauthenticity of the facts and papers I am about to present. To thehistory of my own peculiar situation, amid the great events I record,which made me the depositary of information and documents so important, Iproceed, therefore, though reluctantly, without further preamble.

I was for many years in the confidential service of the Princesse deLamballe, and the most important materials which form my history havebeen derived not only from the conversations, but the private papers ofmy lamented patroness. It remains for me to show how I became acquaintedwith Her Highness, and by what means the papers I allude to came into mypossession.

Though, from my birth, and the rank of those who were the cause of it(had it not been from political motives kept from my knowledge), in pointof interest I ought to have been very independent, I was indebted for myresources in early life to His Grace the late Duke of Norfolk and LadyMary Duncan. By them I was placed for education in the Irish Convent,Rue du Bacq, Faubourg St. Germain, at Paris, where the immortal Sacchini,the instructor of the Queen, gave me lessons in music. Pleased with myprogress, the celebrated composer, when one day teaching MarieAntoinette, so highly overrated to that illustrious lady my infantnatural talents and acquired science in his art, in the presence of hervery shadow, the Princesse de Lamballe, as to excite in Her Majesty aneager desire for the opportunity of hearing me, which the Princessvolunteered to obtain by going herself to the convent next morning withSacchini. It was enjoined upon the composer, as I afterwards learned,that he was neither to apprise me who Her Highness was, nor to whatmotive I was indebted for her visit. To this Sacchini readily agreed,adding, after disclosing to them my connections and situation, "YourMajesty will be, perhaps, still more surprised, when I, as an Italian,and her German master, who is a German, declare that she speaks boththese languages like a native, though born in England; and is as welldisposed to the Catholic faith, and as well versed in it, as if she hadbeen a member of that Church all her life."

This last observation decided my future good fortune: there was nointerest in the minds of the Queen and Princess paramount to that ofmaking proselytes to their creed.

The Princess, faithful to her promise, accompanied Sacchini. Whether itwas chance, ability, or good fortune, let me not attempt to conjecture;but from that moment I became the protege of this ever-regretted angel.Political circumstances presently facilitated her introduction of me tothe Queen. My combining a readiness in the Italian and German languages,with my knowledge of English and French, greatly promoted my power ofbeing useful at that crisis, which, with some claims to their confidenceof a higher order, made this august, lamented, injured pair more likemothers to me than mistresses, till we were parted by their murder.

The circumstances I have just mentioned show that to mere curiosity, thecharacteristic passion of our sex and so often its ruin, I am to ascribethe introduction, which was only prevented by events unparalleled inhistory from proving the most fortunate in my life as it is the mostcherished in my recollection.

It will be seen, in the course of the following pages, how often I wasemployed on confidential missions, frequently by myself, and, in someinstances, as the attendant of the Princess. The nature of my situation,the trust reposed in me, the commissions with which I was honoured, andthe affecting charges of which I was the bearer, flattered my pride anddetermined me to make myself an exception to the rule that "no woman cankeep a secret." Few ever knew exactly where I was, what I was doing, andmuch less the importance of my occupation. I had passed from England toFrance, made two journeys to Italy and Germany, three to the ArchduchessMaria Christiana, Governess of the Low Countries, and returned back toFrance, before any of my friends in England were aware of my retreat, orof my ever having accompanied the Princess. Though my letters werewritten and dated at Paris, they were all forwarded to England by way ofHolland or Germany, that no clue should be given for annoyances from idlecuriosity. It is to this discreetness, to this inviolable secrecy,firmness, and fidelity, which I so early in life displayed to the augustpersonages who stood in need of such a person, that I owe the unlimitedconfidence of my illustrious benefactress, through which I was furnishedwith the valuable materials I am now submitting to the public.

I was repeatedly a witness, by the side of the Princesse de Lamballe, ofthe appalling scenes of the bonnet rouge, of murders a la lanterne, andof numberless insults to the unfortunate Royal Family of Louis XVI., whenthe Queen was generally selected as the most marked victim of maliciousindignity. Having had the honour of so often beholding this much injuredQueen, and never without remarking how amiable in her manners, howcondescendingly kind in her deportment towards every one about her, howcharitably generous, and withal, how beautiful she was,--I looked uponher as a model of perfection. But when I found the public feeling somuch at variance with my own, the difference became utterlyunaccountable. I longed for some explanation of the mystery. One day Iwas insulted in the Tuileries, because I had alighted from my horse towalk there without wearing the national ribbon. On this I met thePrincess: the conversation which grew out of my adventure emboldened meto question her on a theme to me inexplicable.

"What," asked I, "can it be which makes the people so outrageous againstthe Queen?"

Her Highness condescended to reply in the complimentary terms which I amabout to relate, but without answering my question.

"My dear friend!" exclaimed she, "for from this moment I beg you willconsider me in that light, never having been blessed with children of myown, I feel there is no way of acquitting myself of the obligations youhave heaped upon me, by the fidelity with which you have executed thevarious commissions entrusted to your charge, but by adopting you as oneof my own family. I am satisfied with you, yes, highly satisfied withyou, on the score of your religious principles; and as soon as thetroubles subside, and we have a little calm after them, my father-in-lawand myself will be present at the ceremony of your confirmation."

The goodness of my benefactress silenced me gratitude would not allow meto persevere for the moment. But from what I had already seen of HerMajesty the Queen, I was too much interested to lose sight of my object,--not, let me be believed, from idle womanish curiosity, but from thatreal, strong, personal interest which I, in common with all who ever hadthe honour of being in her presence, felt for that much-injured, mostengaging sovereign.

A propitious circumstance unexpectedly occurred, which gave me anopportunity, without any appearance of officious earnestness, to renewthe attempt to gain the end I had in view.

I was riding in the carriage with the Princesse de Lamballe, when a ladydrove by, who saluted my benefactress with marked attention and respect.There was something in the manner of the Princess, after receiving thesalute, which impelled me, spite of myself, to ask who the lady was.

"Madame de Genlis," exclaimed Her Highness, with a shudder of disgust,"that lamb's face with a wolf's heart, and a fog's cunning." Or, toquote her own Italian phrase which I have here translated, "colla facciad'agnello, il cuore dun lupo, a la dritura della volpe."

In the course of these pages the cause of this strong feeling againstMadame de Genlis will be explained. To dwell on it now would only turnme aside from my narrative. To pursue my story, therefore:

When we arrived at my lodgings (which were then, for private reasons, atthe Irish Convent, where Sacchini and other masters attended to furtherme in the accomplishments of the fine arts), "Sing me something," saidthe Princess, "'Cantate mi qualche cosa', for I never see that woman "(meaning Madame de Genlis) "but I feel ill and out of humour. I wish itmay not be the foreboding of some great evil!"

I sang a little rondo, in which Her Highness and the Queen alwaysdelighted, and which they would never set me free without making me sing,though I had given them twenty before it.

[The rondo I allude to was written by Sarti for the celebrated Marches!, Lungi da to ben mio, and is the same in which he was so successful in England, when he introduced it in London in the opera of Giulo Sabino.]

Her Highness honoured me with even more than usual praise. I kissed thehand which had so generously applauded my infant talents, and said, "Now,my dearest Princess, as you are so kind and good-humoured, tell mesomething about the Queen!"

She looked at me with her eyes full of tears. For an instant they stoodin their sockets as if petrified: and then, after a pause, "I cannot,"answered she in Italian, as she usually did, "I cannot refuse youanything. 'Non posso neyarti niente'. It would take me an age to tellyou the many causes which have conspired against this much-injured Queen!I fear none who are near her person will escape the threatening stormthat hovers over our heads. The leading causes of the clamour againsther have been, if you must know, Nature; her beauty; her power ofpleasing; her birth; her rank; her marriage; the King himself; hermother; her imperfect education; and, above all, her unfortunatepartialities for the Abbe Vermond; for the Duchesse de Polignac; formyself, perhaps; and last, but not least, the thorough, unsuspectinggoodness of her heart!

"But, since you seem to be so much concerned for her exalted, persecutedMajesty, you shall have a Journal I myself began on my first coming toFrance, and which I have continued ever since I have been honoured withthe confidence of Her Majesty, in graciously giving me that unlooked-forsituation at the head of her household, which honour and justice preventmy renouncing under any difficulties, and which I never will quit butwith my life!"

She wept as she spoke, and her last words were almost choked with sobs.

Seeing her so much affected, I humbly begged pardon for havingunintentionally caused her tears, and begged permission to accompany herto the Tuileries.

"No," said she, "you have hitherto conducted yourself with a profoundprudence, which has insured you my confidence. Do not let your curiositychange your system. You shall have the Journal. But be careful. Readit only by yourself, and do not show it to any one. On these conditionsyou shall have it."

I was in the act of promising, when Her Highness stopped me.

"I want no particular promises. I have sufficient proofs of youradherence to truth. Only answer me simply in the affirmative."

I said I would certainly obey her injunctions most religiously.

She then left me, and directed that I should walk in a particular part ofthe private alleys of the Tuileries, between three and four o'clock inthe afternoon. I did so; and from her own hand I there received herprivate Journal.

In the following September of this same year (1792) she was murdered!

Journalising copiously, for the purpose of amassing authentic materialsfor the future historian, was always a favourite practice of the French,and seems to have been particularly in vogue in the age I mention. Thepress has sent forth whole libraries of these records since theRevolution, and it is notorious that Louis XV. left Secret Memoirs,written by his own hand, of what passed before this convulsion; and hadnot the papers of the Tuileries shared in the wreck of royalty, it wouldhave been seen that Louis XVI. had made some progress in the memoirs ofhis time; and even his beautiful and unfortunate Queen had herself madeextensive notes and collections for the record of her own disastrouscareer. Hence it must be obvious how one so nearly connected insituation and suffering with her much-injured mistress, as the Princessede Lamballe, would naturally fall into a similar habit had she even nostronger temptation than fashion and example. But self-communion, bymeans of the pen, is invariably the consolation of strong feeling, andreflecting minds under great calamities, especially when theirintercourse with the world has been checked or poisoned by its malice.

The editor of these pages herself fell into the habit of which shespeaks; and it being usual with her benefactress to converse with all theunreserve which every honest mind shows when it feels it can confide, herhumble attendant, not to lose facts of such importance, commonly madenotes of what she heard. In any other person's hands the Journal of thePrincess would have been incomplete; especially as it was written in arambling manner, and was never intended for publication. But connectedby her confidential conversations with me, and the recital of the eventsto which I personally bear testimony, I trust it will be found the basisof a satisfactory record, which I pledge myself to be a true one.

I do not know, however, that, at my time of life, and after a lapse ofthirty years, I should have been roused to the arrangement of the paperswhich I have combined to form this narrative, had I not met with the workof Madame Campan upon the same subject.

This lady has said much that is true respecting the Queen; but she hasomitted much, and much she has misrepresented: not, I dare say,purposely, but from ignorance, and being wrongly informed. She was often